


Hate

by serenecj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-05
Updated: 2008-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenecj/pseuds/serenecj
Summary: Draco Malfoy loves his job.  Especially when it means being able to torture Potter 'round the clock.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Many thanks to Jinx67 and misspinxter for the beta and for putting up with all of my annoying habits and mistakes. Much love. 

Written for Summersmut for midnight_birth!

** Hate **

Draco Malfoy loved his job. Well... he didn't always love his job. Actually, he rather hated it normally. He loathed it. Having a job in the first place seemed below him. But to have to follow people around, watching their every move and... and putting _them_ and their safety before his own was absolute torture. And let's not forget that almost every one of his ‘assignments’ seemed to think that it was Draco's duty to be their personal slave. It wasn't. Nowhere in his job description did it say that he was required to get Ernie McMillan a coffee every other hour simply because Ernie’s life was in supposed danger. Draco's job was to protect him, make sure nothing was off, and call the Auror's if something seemed amiss while making sure nothing happened to Ernie in the mean time. But he got him the coffee. Every other hour without fail, and a croissant to go with it. He always did. And he hated it. He hated his job and absolutely everything about it.

Until now. He had a new assignment. Harry Potter. And things were finally starting to look up. Not that he particularly fancied having to protect Potter with his own life, mind you - but he would. He'd deal with that unfortunate detail. Potter was in danger and where were his friends now? Where was the little Weasel now? Surely he'd have jumped at the chance to protect Potter. It'd been years since Voldemort had been defeated; Weasley had to be hard up for another chance at playing sidekick. But no. Potter had turned to his department. Clearly he had no one. No friends. No Weasley bint. No one. He was probably all washed up, with no Dark Lord to battle. Probably lying in a gutter somewhere, cold and alone, trying to save puppies from the big bad Muggle vehicles, or some such. Draco couldn't wait to rub it in his face.

The assignment was just too good to pass up, and even if it wasn't, it was a nice convenient way to pay off that little debt he owed the prat and never have it held over his head again. It was a win-win situation. Draco wasn't about to let someone else take it from him.

"I'll do it," Draco had said, as soon as Potter's name was mentioned. "I've got no other assignments. McMillan's safe in his pathetic excuse for a bed and most everyone else is busy. Except for that Dennis fellow, and really, do you want to put _Harry Potter's_ well being in _his_ hands? He couldn't protect a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"There's no such thing, Malfoy," said Shacklebolt, looking bored, and it figured that because it was Potter, the Minister would be involved. Until Potter came along, the most he or any of his co-workers ever saw of the Minister was his signature on a slip of parchment, authorizing the use of a particularly nasty spell or some such.

"You see my point, then," Draco responded, unfazed. "They don't even exist and he couldn't protect one." He folded his arms across his chest triumphantly.

"You do know that I've called all of you Wizardguards here and Mr. Creevey is standing right behind you." Shacklebolt seemed to find this amusing. 

Draco was more than aware that all of his department workers were in the room with him. It was kind of hard to miss, as there were so many of them that they filled even the Minister’s large office, but Draco really didn't care if the mousy little infant heard him. He strongly suspected that Creevey bought his way into his job. Or slept his way into it. He always had his suspicions about his department head. No matter. Draco was positive he didn't get it on his own.

He didn't say any of this, though. He simply shrugged.

Shacklebolt sighed. "Given your history..." He trailed off here, running his dark fingers over the shiny surface of his head, searching carefully for the right words.

"Right," Draco said, waving his hand, dismissively. "My history, that tiny little incident at Hogwarts, this insignificant little mark - nothing more than a tattoo, now, mind - and the fact that I hate the prat. Er...used to hate him. Actually... not hate, really. Disliked. Just a schoolboy rivalry, actually. Not to be taken seriously now. At all."

Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows, eyes opening in a comical way that Draco hadn't thought the man was capable of. "Schoolboy rivalry? Malfoy, you tried to--"

"Yes, I know, Minister," Draco interrupted. "I was there, you see." Shacklebolt frowned at him, but Draco went on undeterred. "That doesn't make me any less good at what I do _now_. I'm one of the best, actually. Ask anyone." He turned to his co-workers and was more than a little shocked when all they did was stare.

"Okay," Draco said, a bit frustrated. He'd be damned if anyone else got this case. "Ask any of those that I've worked for. They'll tell you. I've never had a single complaint."

"What about your mishap with Mr. Creevey?"

Draco gaped at him. "I refuse to take responsibility for that fact that Dennis has some sort of obsession with the Giant Squid! And how could I be expected to do anything right with him tagging along. I told you, he couldn't protect a Crumple--,"

"I suppose, then," Shacklebolt interrupted, raising his voice a bit, "the fact that you neglected your assignment to get... _better_ acquainted with this Giant Squid was all Dennis's fault as well?"

"Have you _seen_ the bloody thing? Besides, it was doing very odd things with its tentacles and I had to get a better look to be sure no one was in immediate danger."

"And the complaint Davies filed after your time with him? How do you explain that?"

Draco faltered a bit at this, going pink. "I'm the one who should have launched a complaint," he said slowly. "He all but molested _me_. He was begging for it and just because I happen to say yes after much protesting and _allowed_ him to..."

"That's entirely off the point, Malfoy," Shacklebolt returned before Draco could finish that particular sentence. He opened his mouth, but closed it again with a sigh. He began sifting through papers--profiles Draco assumed and he grinned. He had it. No matter how many times Shacklebolt went through those files, he wasn't going to find anyone else, and whether Shacklebolt would say it or not, Creevey was useless. He was also well known for his constant fawning over Potter, exactly like his brother, at Hogwarts. If he got the assignment, he'd be too busy gazing longingly at Potter to pay attention to anything else.

"Someone could switch their assignments. You could have one of—”

"No," Draco said, voice firm. "I'll take this one. I'm good at my job."

Shacklebolt heaved a great sigh, sitting back in his chair. He studied Draco with a look that clearly said he knew he was going to regret what he was about to do. Draco was celebrating. "All right, Malfoy. It's yours. But Creevey will be your second."

Draco smirked. "As long as he is my second from behind his desk." He turned to leave, making sure his robes whipped behind him. He loved it when they did that. Added more to his exit. Gave it a sort of dramatic flare.

"And Malfoy," Shacklebolt called after him and Draco froze. "If Potter has any issues with you, I'll find out and..." He let it hang, but Draco got the point loud and clear.

Bollocks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What did you do, Harry?"

"I didn't do anything, Ron."

"Of course you did," Weasley said. He looked like he might be ill. "You had to have. The Minister of Magic obviously hates you and he clearly wants you dead."

"Shacklebolt doesn't want me dead, Ron," Potter said, but the way he was staring at Draco, a terrified look in his eyes that matched Weasley's exactly, let Draco know that Potter had his suspicions about Shacklebolt's intentions toward him as well.

"How else do you explain _this_?" Weasley said, pointing at Draco. 

"I'm standing right here, you know," Draco informed them, highly amused. "I can hear you, Weasley."

Weasley raised his eyebrows. "What's your point?"

"Right," Draco said, nodding. "You're absolutely right; I shouldn't expect any more from you."

"What's that supposed to mean, Malfoy?" Ron growled, his look changing from that of a man about to wretch to that of one about to pounce. Really, what the hell was Weasley doing there? Potter was supposed to be alone and sad and weak. He wasn't supposed to have friends. Where were the lost puppies and the gutter? Clearly, the world hated Draco. Still, their reactions to having him there were amusing enough. All was not lost.

"Look, Malfoy," Potter said, "there must be some sort of mistake. You can't have known that it was _me_ , so we'll just go back to the Minister...."

"We'll do no such thing, Potter," Draco cut in. "There's nobody but me. Everyone else is on assignment, unless you want Creevey, but he's technically already on the case. There was just a... a mishap at the office and he ended up bound to his desk... totally on accident, of course. Also, _I_ had absolutely _nothing_ to do with that. Nothing at all."

"Right," Potter said absently, running a hand through his hair, his shirt riding up in a way that Draco had always thought was appealing, and he frowned as he gave Potter a once over, wondering what happened to the scrawny, speccy git he was fully expecting to meet upon seeing Potter again. 

He inwardly growled at the attractive man that Potter had turned into. And then kicked himself as the thought crossed his mind. 

Draco absolutely did _not_ find Potter attractive. Potter was a mess. His hair was just as horrible as it'd always been, and his clothes, Merlin, his clothes were downright disgraceful. His shirt was frayed at the collar and the bottom hem and it was just slightly too small and clung to what muscles Potter had in a way that might be nice… if it were anyone but Potter. As it was, Draco decided right then that he hated the look, especially on Potter. Also, the way Potter was chewing his lips was not at all distracting and he'd swear it under Veritaserum.

He had a very effective counter potion, anyway, just in case.

Potter was a mess and Draco did not find messes attractive. At all. And he'd top himself if the thought ever crossed his mind again. Or he'd kill Potter for not going along with the plan and becoming a miserable, highly _un_ attractive, drunk who spends most of his time in gutters with poor helpless puppies. It was a _good_ plan. Draco had liked that plan.

"Well," Potter interrupted Draco's train of thought, casting a worried glance at the Weasel. If any more blood traveled to his face, it was likely to explode. "We'll just wait for Dennis, then. You don't have to stay."

"I'm afraid he won't be here for a long while," Draco said smirking, and more than a little grateful for the distraction from his horrible thoughts. "The particular hex - which I had nothing to do with, I'll have you know, and I have an air tight alibi to prove it - well... it was a really nasty hex and I'm afraid he'll be held up for quite some time. I'm afraid you’re stuck with me."

"Let's just go talk to Kingsley," Weasley said, still glaring at Draco, distrust evident all over his face. 

Draco sighed. "Look, Potter. I don't like this any more than you do," he lied. "But I'm good at my job, and I haven't had a single complaint in any of my two years of working in Personal Wizard Security. I hold no grudges and I won't let our... 'history' affect my work if you won't."

" _You_ hold no grudges?" Weasley said, infuriated, before Potter could respond. Potter didn't look to happy with that part of Draco's comment either. "Of course, _you_ hold no grudges."

Draco glared. Weasley was ten times worse than Potter any day. 

"If you have such a problem, Weasley, why aren't _you_ doing the job? You're an Auror. Why'd you lot even come to us with your little death threat? Why not just solve it yourselves, run headlong into danger without asking for any help like you always do? Trouble in paradise? Not quite as tight as you lot used to be, are you? Where is the little Mud... Granger, anyway? Where is the little bint?"

It was Harry who answered. "Watch it, Malfoy. Ron _is_ on the case," Potter said, glaring. "The threat was delivered directly to the Ministry with a nice warning hex attached and... well, I'm not... 'allowed' to have much to do with anything, but Ron _is_ on it. Kingsley just wanted me to have someone..." Potter sighed and took a deep breath here before continuing. Obviously, he was none to happy about having _anyone_ , much less Draco, looking after him. "Kingsley wanted... he thought I could use the extra... protection. An extra set of eyes. And Hermione--"

"Hermione is none of your bleeding business," Weasley finished for him. Draco was almost positive that wasn't what Potter was going to say, but he didn't exactly jump to correct the Weasel either. 

Draco frowned. Things weren't going at all as well as Draco had hoped. Potter wasn't miserable. Or, at least, he wasn't alone. Weasley was alive and well, which was enough to put Draco in a bad mood on the best of days. He found it funny, though, that his mere presence seemed to be making Potter miserable. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him entertained. Besides, he didn't fancy pissing off the Minister of Magic. Much.

"This is stupid and it's getting us nowhere," Draco said. "Shacklebolt put me on this assignment, and if you don't trust me, fine. I'm not here to gain your trust. I'm here to do a job, and I plan on doing it. So grow up a bit, eh Potter? We're not exactly children anymore, and this is pointless."

"You've got some nerve, Malfoy." This from Weasley. Again. 

"Why don't you run along, Weasley? I have very little hope that you will, but the quicker you solve Potter's little issue, the quicker I'll be out of the picture."

Weasley gaped at him. Draco shrugged. 

Potter sighed, dropping his arms resignedly. "He's right, Ron." Ron looked at him incredulously. "I don't like it, but he is. Obviously Kingsley thinks he's all right, and I'll talk to him tomorrow to make sure, because I still don't believe this isn't a mistake. Besides, mate, you're late as it is."

Weasley went back to glaring at Draco. "I don't trust you."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Really Weasley? The shock alone may kill me."

Weasley ignored him. "I'll see if Seamus can drop by; he gets off soon. He'll help you keep an eye on... _Malfoy_."

Potter nodded. "Alright, then. I'll see you tonight. Hermione'll be back, then, right?"

Draco groaned audibly. All three of them? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Weasley frowned at him again, for good measure. Just in case there was any weight in the phrase 'a look that could kill' He gave Potter's shoulder a brief squeeze before Disapparating.

"Right," Draco said, looking at Potter. "Thanks. His hair was giving me a terrible headache."

"Sod off, Malfoy."

Draco sighed as he adjusted his robes. It was really rather hot out, and Draco was regretting not suggesting they meet somewhere indoors and climate-controlled. As it was, the sun had been beating down on him for much longer than could be considered safe. The skin issues alone... 

"Honestly, Potter," he said, rubbing at his forehead. "I thought we got past this already. It's my _job_ to be here. I couldn't possibly 'sod off'."

"Belt up, then," Potter shot back. He turned and began walking down the street.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, far beyond frustrated. Perhaps if _he_ got to Shacklebolt first and _asked_ for a new assignment, Shacklebolt would be kind.

"I'm going home, Malfoy," Potter responded without turning back to look at him. "You can stay here if you like, or you can follow me and jump in front of any stray hexes that might possibly be aimed in my direction."

"Excuse me, Potter?" Draco said, hurrying to catch up. "But that's not what I'm here for." Actually, it was exactly what he was there for. "Or...whatever. Why aren't we Apparating, then?"

Potter frowned. "I hate Apparating. We're walking."

"What is it, Potter? Afraid of splinching yourself? You always were useless." Draco asked smirking.

Harry stopped. "Honestly, Malfoy, is it too much to ask that you not talk? Is that too much for you to handle? It's been a long day."

Draco laughed. "Spare me, Potter, I really don't care. But we don't have to talk. Hearing your voice isn't at all as pleasant as your adoring fans might have you think."

"Whatever, Malfoy. Just... come on."

"Anything you say, Potter."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco didn't stop talking when Potter asked. He talked the whole way back to Potter's house for no other reason than he hated silence and his voice seemed to be making Potter groan miserably every other minute. Which was nice. So, he talked and talked about nothing of importance until they got to Potter's house. And he was rendered speechless.

From the outside, it wasn't much to look at and Draco smiled to himself. Perhaps Potter's life had gone down the drain like he'd hoped. Maybe there was even a gutter nearby. It wasn't at all impressive.

Except, it was.

The second Potter opened the door, Draco's jaw dropped.

It was big. Much bigger than it looked from the outside, and Draco was more than a little suspicious that it had been charmed. But besides the size, it was... nice. Almost nicer, Draco thought, that his own. Almost. Possibly. 

Potter's house was supposed to be as pathetic as the clothes he wore under his Auror robes everyday. But it wasn't and it pissed Draco off to no end.

But it was the curtains that had Draco fuming. They hung in front of the large floor to ceiling windows, and they were actually _nice_. He had the same ones in his flat. His slightly larger, more impressive flat.

"I hate you, Potter."

"Er..." Potter said looking around embarrassed. "It was Seamus that did most of this. Dean helped a bit, I think. I... don't really stay here often. Actually... most of this is recent. I didn't really... A lot of these things were gifts. Ron and his mum picked out the curtains. He lives here, too, actually. Well, technically. He's not really here much either... And the sofa was from Andromeda. Hermione and her parents got the tables. And this flat actually used to belong to--"

"I really, really hate you." Not only did Potter have a rather impressive place, but just like always, he didn't have to work for a bit of it. He didn't even appreciate it. Had their positions been switched, Draco would have been flaunting. Potter looked embarrassed. Draco thought he might even be blushing. It was disgusting.

"Right," Potter said, arms swinging at his sides awkwardly as he took a few steps toward the opposite side of the room. "I'm just going to... do something. Something else. Like paperwork. In the study. You can make yourself comfortable anywhere but there."

Draco snorted and followed him. "Right, Potter. I'm not to let you out of my sight. You're not going anywhere." He had a feeling this assignment wasn't going to be near as much fun as he thought it'd be. The universe was clearly against him and nothing was ever going to go the way he wanted.

Potter laughed. "Actually, I _am_ going somewhere. The study. Follow if you must, but make yourself seen and not heard. I wouldn't mind not seeing you, too, but I'll take what I can get."

"No, Potter," Draco shot back. "You're going to stand right there and wait until I've checked everything out. Then we'll both go to your study and I'll do whatever I please."

"Can't you at least try to be civil, Malfoy?"

"Me? You're the one that needs to learn how to treat guests. Now, I'd like a tour, if you will. I need to see every room down to the last linen closet so I can put up wards." 

Potter sighed, fingering the handle of the door to what Draco assumed was the study. 

"You know, Malfoy, I don't actually need you here. This was all Kingsley's doing. You could leave and I'd never tell Kingsley you did."

Draco smirked. Maybe Potter wasn't miserable, but if Draco's presence was helping achieve that goal, then he wasn't going anywhere. "Nice try, Potter, but I think I'll pass."

Potter sighed again, chewing on his lip as he studied Draco. The action drew unnecessary attention to Potter's mouth, and Draco could have slapped himself for letting his gaze linger on the man's swollen lip for longer than necessary. He stood there for a long while before nodding as though making up his mind about something. "Right then, let's go."

"Don't be stupid, Potter, we just got here and--"

"Yes, I know, but I'm hungry. We don't have much in the way of food here, and I don't fancy being alone with you. So, let's go grab a bite to eat."

"I don't really feel like walking anymore," Draco said, fully aware that he was whining and not caring in the slightest.

"Fine. We’ll Floo, then. We'll go to a Wizarding place. Ron and I found a great one last week."

"I don't think so, Potter. I'm not actually very hungry at the moment," he lied. Unfortunately, his stomach chose that moment exactly to make its opinion on the subject known. Draco frowned at it.

Potter grinned.

"Oh, bugger off. What is this place you're bringing me to?"

"You'll see," Potter said making his way toward the fireplace. He grabbed the floo powder. "It's brilliant."

'Brilliant' was the last word Draco would have chosen to describe the restaurant Potter took him to. He'd use appalling and vulgar, and bleeding scary, but never 'brilliant'. 

He knew he was going to hate it the second he walked in. It was, in a word, _orange_ , and it figured that someone like the Weasel would think it was brilliant. On top of the horrid color that Draco was sure would blind him if exposed to it for too long, it was filthy. Absolutely filthy. He was sure it couldn't be legal to actually serve food in a place so disgusting. He'd be speaking to Kingsley about it as soon as he could.

The food wasn't bad, though. It looked a bit off, but it didn't exactly taste horrible... if you could get past the dirty dishes it was served on, that is, and Draco was positive that if he braved a sip of his drink, it'd be the last thing he ever did.

"You are a very cruel person, Potter," Draco said, pushing the food on his plate around. "I didn't know you had it in you."

Potter laughed. "It's not that bad."

"Really? The dishes are trying to kill me, this chair is about to fall apart, and what in Merlin's name is that woman doing?" Draco said pointing at a witch at the back of the restaurant.

"She's singing, Malfoy," Potter said, his eyes alight with amusement. It was a good look for him, and Draco glanced away immediately, glaring at the woman who was currently screeching the words to 'You Charm the Heart Right Out of Me'.

"That's not singing. She's... torturing. She's torturing me and you and everyone else in here. It's not right. This is worse than some of the Dark spells I've had thrown my way. I'll have her reported. I know people. I happen to be very close to the Minister himself, I'll have you know."

"Really?" Potter asked, interested. "He's never said anything."

"Well," Draco said, as he put a particularly greasy potato into his mouth. "We are close— in the way that he doesn't really like me at all but he knows my name well enough to yell it when he's telling me to leave his office at once and that he will absolutely not tolerate my poisoning another co-worker so that I can get out of having a partner."

"You what?!" Harry shouted, his fork falling to the table with a loud clang. He glanced around at the people who looked up at him and lowered his voice before continuing. "You should have been arrested for that. Or at least fired."

Draco shrugged. "It wasn't a fatal poison... Well... in small doses it isn't fatal, at least. And I hardly used any at all. Only a couple of drops. Knocked him out right and proper for just the right amount of time. And anyway, it wasn't me... officially. I was at Blaise's... officially."

Potter gaped at him. "You're insane."

Draco laughed. "It wasn't me, remember?" he said with a smirk. "But Smith deserved it. He's a bleeding prat. I never really did like him much."

 

"Neither did I..." Potter agreed thoughtfully, taking a sip of his drink.

"See?" Draco said, throwing his arms in the air. "You'd have done the same thing."

"I would not," Potter said, shaking his head as he took another bite of his food.

"You just said."

"No, I said, Zacharias is a prat. But I never would have poisoned him."

"Right," Draco said skeptically as he stabbed at an exceptionally shifty-looking piece of meat. 

"I wouldn't have," Potter said, grinning a bit. "But," he went on as Draco rolled his eyes, "I _might_ have bound him to a desk with a particularly nasty sort of hex. Possibly."

Draco laughed. "Of course you would. And no one would ever suspect you, because you're Harry bleeding Potter and you _never_ do anything wrong."

It was Potter's turn to laugh, apparently. "No, Malfoy, loads of people would suspect me. They'd just think I did it for a good and noble reason."

Draco gasped, dramatically. "First you attempt to end my life with this wretched restaurant, and now this? _Honestly_ , Potter? You're supposed to be honest and true. "

Harry frowned. "Who says?" 

"Everyone," Draco responded with a shrug as though it should be obvious.

"Everyone that doesn't know me." 

Draco raised his eyebrows as he chewing his lip thoughtfully. "There may be hope for you yet, Potter."

"That so?" Harry said, shaking his head with a grin.

Draco nodded. "See, I'm brilliant; though, you probably noticed that."

Potter snorted. "No, actually," he said flatly. "I must have missed that somehow."

"You always were slow, Potter, but that's off the point. The _point_ is that I'm brilliant, and you... well, people like you. They trust you. Nobody trusts me after that little incident during the war."

" _'Little incident_ '?!"

"Yes, you know the one," Draco continued, ignoring the incredulous tone in Potter's voice. "Anyway, people trust you, not me. However, you are horrible when it comes to the thinking up brilliant scheming plans, and I'm rather good at it. Together we could accomplish great things. The only problem, of course, is that you're hardly tolerable. But, I think the galleons we'll make will more than make up for the time we'll have to spend together. Though, you'll have to get rid of the Weasel; I can only stand being around him for so long. Also--"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Shut up."

Draco dropped his fork and sat back heavily into his chair, trying to ignore the way it wobbled dangerously. "You wound me, Potter, really you do."

Potter shrugged. "I try."

Draco grinned in return. "It's nice to know you care," he said, reclaiming his fork. "Honestly," he added looking at it. "The table is dirtier than the ground. Outside. This place is clearly evil."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure the bad dust mites are going to rise and attack any minute," Potter said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sure they..." He trailed off as Potter's words caught up to him. Or rather, one word caught up to him. Attack. "Bollocks," he said. "You're right." He immediately began gathering his things to leave. "Quickly, Potter, we have to go."

"Er... no, Malfoy, I was kidding really. Dust mites cannot attack. At least, I'm pretty sure they can't..."

"Of course they can’t, you imbecile. But someone has threatened your life. We should never have left your house. You could be in danger right now. Merlin, I'm an idiot."

"Honestly, Malfoy, it's not really as bad as all that," Potter said, trying to calm him down. "My life is threatened all the time."

"We're leaving, Potter," Draco stated firmly, and was grateful when Potter didn't argue. Draco couldn't have been angrier with himself. He'd taken the assignment because he thought it'd be amusing to see how far Potter had fallen. Or possibly just piss him off by being the one to protect him, but he'd always planned on doing his job. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid.

It was a long walk back to Potter's flat. Draco hated walking, but if they Flooed, they risked being followed, and it was much easier for Draco to make sure they weren't being followed if they Apparated. Which Potter outright refused to do. So they walked; Draco casting spells the whole way to make sure they didn't have any company.

"You really are good at what you do, aren't you?" Potter said as they turned a corner, nearing his flat.

"You doubted me?" Draco responded, training his wand on a moving bush. A kitten jumped out no more than a second later. He frowned at Potter, daring him to say something about it. "You have got to learn to Apparate, Potter, this is ridiculous," he said, before casting another charm to make certain they weren't being followed.

"I know how to Apparate. I just prefer not to. Besides, I like walking. It's nice."

Draco opened his mouth to tell Potter just how nice it wasn't, but stopped short as he looked around. It wasn't... bad exactly. It wasn't near as hot out without his work robes on and the breeze was nice. He rather enjoyed the way it sounded ruffling through the leaves above his head. 

"I wouldn't go that far, Potter," Draco said, eyes never leaving the sunset. "But it's not... horrible...” He sighed. “ _Hostilis Ostendo_ ," he cast the charm again, and this time he felt it. The slight stinging sensation right in the middle of his chest. He froze.

"We're almost there, Malfoy, you can stop doi--" He stopped talking when he realized Draco was no longer next to him. "What?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Apparate," Draco said urgently, his eyes scanning his surroundings as quick as they possibly could. 

"What?" Potter was frowning. He spun in circles, looking for whatever it was that had Draco so worked up.

"Apparate! Now!" Draco shouted, vaguely wondering how someone like Potter had ever managed to defeat the Dark Lord. With the way he was acting now, it was a wonder he got to work and back everyday without being offed by something or the other.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, just tell me--"

"Go, Potter," Draco tried once more. And then he spotted it: the soft red glow just twenty paces or so behind them, which indicated exactly where their 'company' was hiding. Draco pointed his wand, but he couldn't exactly throw a hex without something at which to aim. The spell just gave him a general idea of his enemy's location.

"I can help, Malfoy, just--"

"Merlin, you're useless," Draco said, stepping toward Potter and grabbing his arm. He let out a sharp hiss as something hit his back, and if he could Apparate without splinching Potter or himself, he'd be shocked indeed.

"Oh no, Malfoy, don't. I hate--"

"Shut up, Potter." For all of his talk, Apparating wasn't necessarily one of Draco's strong suits. He needed to concentrate, especially if he was going to have to bring Potter Side-Along and the fact that they could be attacked any moment and Potter couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut wasn't helping matters any. He was definitely going to splinch _someone_ , he was sure of it. He could only hope it was Potter.

He tightened his grip on Potter's arm, trying his best to gather his bearings, before raising his wand. He closed his eyes and held his breath as the world around him disappeared, and though no more than a second passed, that second seemed to drag on forever before he opened his eyes to Potter flat. He let go of Potter and immediately began casting spells to cover their trail.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Potter actually sounded angry. His fists were clinched at his sides, and if it were at all possible, his hair looked even worse than normal.

Draco cast a few more wards and set a light Apparition alarm for good measure before answering. "What do you think it was, Potter? And you might try showing some appreciation. I've just saved your arse." 

"We should have stayed and fought," Potter shot back.

"Oh yes," Draco responded caustically as he stormed through Potter's flat, casting spells the whole way. "I'm sure you spinning in circles would have eventually made whoever it was dizzy enough to pass out. Capital plan, maybe I'll let you try next time."

"Sod off, Malfoy. I'm an _Auror_. I have just as much training as you. Probably more."

Really, Potter was too much. "You could have fooled me," Draco said flatly. "But that's neither here nor there, Potter. My job is to keep you safe. Next time, try not making it impossible for me to do it, you ungrateful prick."

"We could have--"

"No, Potter," Draco interrupted, turning to face him. " _We_ couldn't have done anything. You should have Apparated when I told you to. Then, _I_ could have stayed behind and held him until the Auror's who were actually assigned the case showed up. Now bugger off and let me finish these wards." He turned back around, wand raised. 

He was past frustrated. He could have lived with it if Potter had tried to make Draco run errands for him. Or if he asked for coffee. But Potter had to try and help. Potter had to get in the way. Potter had to be an ungrateful prick with a hero complex. Merlin, he hated him. His looks may have improved, but the person behind them certainly hadn't changed a bit, even if he had been slightly less than intolerable at the restaurant. Even if Draco hadn't had a terrible time. Potter was a prat and he always would be.

The curtain in front of him caught fire as he continued to cast spells, breaking his train of thought, and Draco took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to let Potter get him this worked up.

Not that it was just Potter. In Draco's entire career, he'd never been attacked on his first day on assignment. It was unnerving, and he had a feeling that having to deal with Potter's mouth and his pathetic excuses for friends might not be the worst of it. 

"Malfoy," Potter said from behind, and Draco really wasn't in the mood. 

"What?" he answered shortly.

"I'm...sorry." 

Draco wasn't even looking at the other man and he could tell the words caused him pain. He really couldn't have cared less. "Is that all?" he asked.

"No."

Draco sighed, lowering his wand and turning around. There wasn't much else he could do anyway. He'd done about all that he could at least ten charms ago. Putting up useless wards, though, seemed a good way to avoid Potter. "What, then?" he asked. "What is it?"

Potter glared at him. "Don't be a prat, Malfoy. I've apologized. And... I just thought you might like to know, you're bleeding. There's blood seeping through the back of your shirt."

Draco's eyes widened. "Shit," he mumbled. "I take it you've got a mirror somewhere in here?"

Potter sighed. "It's this way," he said, nodding his head towards the hall. "I'll show you there."

"Don't bother," Draco said, making his way across the room. "I'm sure I can manage." Potter followed him anyway. "Plan on watching?"

Potter frowned. "Just stop, Malfoy. You're going to need some help."

Draco paused. As much as he was loath to admit it, he knew Potter was right. There was no way he'd be able to reach it on his own, and now that he'd calmed down a bit, it did hurt quite a lot. 

"There's no reason to go to the bathroom, then," he said. He took off his shirt, turning his back on Potter, and tried not to cringe when he heard him gasp. "That bad, is it? Suppose I should be grateful it was just a Slicing hex. Could have been worse."

"Malfoy..." Potter's voice was barely audible. "I-I'm sorry."

Draco waved his hand, dismissing the apology. "I've been hit with worse. _You've_ hit me with worse, actually."

"I'm--"

"Whatever," Draco interrupted. "You could thank me, though. Thank yous are much more fun to hear than apologies. I like being appreciated."

Potter snorted. "Thanks, then. Er... What do I do?"

Draco's eyes widened and he whipped around before Potter could do something stupid. "What d'you mean 'what do I do'? You're an _Auror_ , Potter, you're supposed to know a bit about healing."

"I do," Potter said, lips curling at the corners a bit. "I... well... I have some blood replenishing potion. And... I could fix your nose."

Draco's hand shot up to his face. "There's _nothing_ wrong with my nose, Potter."

"Well, no," Potter responded. "But I could fix it if you broke it."

"You're most helpful," Draco drawled.

Potter laughed. "Really, though, I do know a bit... Come back here." He reached out for Draco's shoulder.

"You're mad, Potter," Draco snapped, taking a few steps back. "I'm not letting you touch me."

"Really," Potter said advancing on him. "I know a spell and I'm good at it; I just... I'm not sure it's strong enough. Your cut's rather... big."

Draco continued backing away and bit his lip in pain when he backed right into a wall. He swore he heard Potter laugh and he narrowed his eyes at him. "I swear, Potter, if you--"

"Hush, Malfoy," Potter said, and Draco could have hexed him for the almost gentle tone his voice had. "It'll be over in a sec."

"I hate you, Potter. I've always hated you and I wish I never requested this assignment."

"What was that?" Potter asked, brows furrowed in concentration as he pointed his wand at Draco's back.

"Nothing," he said. "Except that I hate you Potter."

"Right," Potter answered. "Well, nothing new there then... _Crusisto_... and... just a second... _Vigorata_. There." He smoothed his hands over Draco's back, and Draco shivered a bit as his fingers grazed a particularly sensitive spot on his lower back. It was a nice feeling and Draco was glad he hadn't attempted to heal himself. He probably would have ripped the wound even further, trying to reach it.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," Potter said quietly, smoothing his hands over Malfoy's back once more before stepping away.

Draco inhaled, slightly unnerved. "Right, well... my shirt, Potter? If you will?" 

Potter handed it to him. "Listen... about earlier..."

"If you force me to suffer through one more of your bleeding apologies, I swear--"

"Shut up and listen," Potter said. "About earlier: You were alright, I suppose. Or...I mean, you obviously know what your doing and Kingsley's probably really busy and it's bad enough that he has to deal with this in the first place, though don’t ask me why he’s taking it so seriously."

"Always the martyr, aren't you?" he said distractedly as he muttered the charm to clean his shirt. 

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Potter sighed frustrated. "What I mean is that we don't need to go see Kingsley tomorrow! You-- well, I don't really fancy having you around all the time, but if it's not you, it'll probably be Smith with my luck, and you're much easier to ignore."

"Rubbish, Potter, you couldn't ignore me if your life depended on it."

"Merlin, have you ever been silent for more than five minutes in your life?"

Draco smirked. "Once, while I was sleeping."

Potter chuckled. "Right. My point is, we don't have to see Kingsley about getting someone else, okay? You'll do fine if Hermione'll teach me that hex she used to seal Ron's mouth a while back."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "And what makes you think, _I_ don't want to see Shacklebolt about a reassignment. I'm not particularly accustomed to working for lunatics with Apparition phobias."

"Do you?" Potter asked frowning. "Want to go to Kingsley, I mean? We can, I suppose, I just thought--"

Draco waved him off, making his way to the sofa. "Never mind, Potter. I suppose I can stick around a bit. Though, I'll require a proper bed to sleep in. And tea. I like tea. Also, you are to go into the kitchen and fix me something that's actually edible. After that little stunt you pulled, I require nourishment."

"You just ate."

Draco frowned. "I did no such thing. I know when someone's trying to poison me, which you were, and I cunningly avoided eating even a single bite. Now, food, please," he ordered. He turned on the sofa, grabbing one of the pillows and laying down. "And don't take all night, Potter. I'll need sleep if I'm going to work for a suicidal lunatic."

Potter laughed. "I saw you eat. And I told you, Malfoy, I haven't got much food here. But I suppose you can have some tea. If you can stay awake long enough."

"Of course I'll be awake. I told you, I require a proper bed. Also, your sofa is plotting against me. I'll be reporting it to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office first chance I get. Just you wait."

Draco could almost hear Potter roll his eyes. "You do that, Malfoy. Though, you may want to remember that the head of that department happens to be a close friend of mine."

"I hate you, Potter. Quite a lot, actually. Have I mentioned that today?"

"You might have. Once or twice."

"Good. You'll do well to remember it. Now go get tea. I'll fire call one of my friends and have them bring food tomorrow." Draco paused to yawn before continuing. "And a house-elf. I won't have you attempting to poison me again."

"I don't think I like the idea of any of your friends knowing where I live. And Hermione will have kittens if she finds a house elf here."

"She'll never find out, Potter. House elves are very talented in making themselves scarce. Now, stop standing there and go--" He trailed off as he yawned once more. He stretched his arms above his head while rolling over. 

"Right," said Potter. "Right... I'll just... get the tea... And Malfoy?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry about your back."

Draco didn't answer. He was asleep before Potter made it out of the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You learn quite a bit about a person when you spend every waking moment with them. Draco was learning a lot about Potter.

He was a stubborn prat, for one. Draco had always known that, but he hadn't known just how stubborn Potter could be until he was forced to argue with the pillock for hours about something as trivial as what restaurant they were to go to. If things weren't going Potter's way, he'd immediately throw a fit, yelling and fighting with Draco until he got his own way. Spoiled git. Not that Draco was any different. It was just bloody annoying when Potter did it. Potter was intolerable.

But he was also, Draco realized, for lack of a better word, quite Slytherin. Draco wasn't about to play nice when it came to Potter, and the other man seemed to sense it and played just as dirty as Draco did. It was odd. Most everyone else Draco had spent any amount of time with rolled over without much of a fuss. But Potter was different. He questioned every little thing Draco did and wasn't afraid to disagree. It was challenging.

Draco'd always welcomed a challenge.

He'd also noticed that Potter was loyal. Genuinely loyal and fiercely protective even of Draco which was ridiculous considering they weren't even friends. But Potter didn't seem to be over bothered by that. After only a week of spending every waking hour with him, Potter took to glaring harshly at anyone that looked at him wrong; spitting scathing insults that Draco hadn’t known he was capable of at those who actually had the nerve to say something to Draco. And once, Potter took up for him when a random stranger had recognized him and tried to curse him as he passed.

Potter had stunned the man before the curse landed, and had him arrested all within the span of two minutes. But it was the look in Potter's eyes when he stunned the man that stuck with Draco. Potter's eyes were wild and... scary. His hair only added to the affect, making Potter look like some sort of an untamed animal.

Draco's immediate reaction—well, immediate reaction after he was able to look away from Potter’s eyes— was to object at once. Potter shouldn't be defending him; it just wasn't normal. Potter should be laughing. But then Potter _did_ laugh. He laughed Draco to shame as he knelt over him, trying to reverse the effects of the hex, eyes bright with amusement. Draco hated him. A lot. Loathed him, even and he vowed to return the favor by doing the best job he could with Potter and keep him out of danger. He refused to be indebted to Potter.

It was easy enough to return the favor. He saved Potter's arse every time they were attacked. Working for Potter was turning out to be far more taxing than any other assignment Draco had had yet. Everyone else listened to him. Potter didn't. Potter stayed behind to help. Potter tried to protect him. Potter did things for _him_ instead of assuming that it was Draco's job to be his slave. And it was things like this—Potter doing things for _him_ for no apparent reason—that made Draco realize why it was that Weasley and Granger were always so quick to run headlong into danger without a second thought. It had never made sense before. Granger, at least, had a brain. But it made sense now. Draco was quickly learning that Potter's sidekicks hadn't followed him into near death situations out of sheer stupidity or for some insane Gryffindor death wish. He knew because now _he_ wanted to protect the prat. It was his job to do it, but Potter made him want to.

He treated Draco like he mattered. He never said, but somewhere in the arguments and the slip ups and the insufferable _looks_ Potter gave him all the time, Draco had figured it out. It was... odd, but Draco was learning to live with it. 

He was learning other things as well. Loads of things. Things... things he would have given anything _not_ to know.

Like how Potter looked when he was angry. How his eyes grew bright and wild and... beautiful. And he hated himself every time he found himself unable to look away.

Or the way Potter smelled after he took a shower. Like the cheapest sort of soap and aftershave. And Draco hated himself for finding it... endearing. And he'd have killed himself if his wand were anywhere close when the word 'endearing' in reference to Potter crossed his mind.

And then there was Potter's smile. A smile that rarely made its way onto Potter's face, and on more than one occasion, Draco found himself saying things ...ridiculous things... to get it to appear.

Of all that Draco learned, one thing stuck out amongst the rest. One thing that explained all of the other unfortunate things he'd been finding out about Potter and his own reactions to them. And that was that prolonged exposure to the Wizarding World's savior was very bad for the mind and was likely to drive one mad sooner rather than later.

And no matter how... nice Potter looked when he was angry or smiling and no matter how he smelled or... looked fresh out the shower and no matter how much Draco felt the inexplicable urge to... protect him. He still hated the prat. Mostly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After having been attacked for the fifth time, Draco tried keeping Potter confined to the flat. Every time they left the place, one of them ended up bleeding or disfigured. The best solution was to simply never leave. It wasn't long, though, before Potter got annoyed and told Shacklebolt. Prat.

"The point of your job, Malfoy," Shacklebolt said when he fire called, "is to provide protection so that Potter _doesn't have_ to hole himself up in his flat. You're supposed to protect him as he goes about every day life."

Draco only listened because he was just as tired of being inside as Potter was. 

They went out to see the Weasley’s often, much to Draco's chagrin, but much to his surprise, he rather enjoyed himself. After the first couple of days, Potter seemed to be immune to Draco's attempts to make him miserable, but the Weasley’s weren't. Draco found that if he even looked at that George character, his face would flare and something sharp would go flying through the air only a moment later. He found it terribly amusing, and it was nice to have someone to harass since he'd left off on trying to hurt Potter.

Which is not to say that he and Potter didn't still argue. They did. Constantly. Mostly because Potter was a stubborn prat who seemed completely opposed to listening to reason. And Draco was not accustomed to people _questioning_ him so much. Most people listened, and if they didn't, it was easy to manipulate them into giving him what he wanted. But not Potter. Potter was different and Draco rarely ever won against him. It was ridiculous. 

Even when Draco was right, Potter would go on and on. Even when Draco was trying to _help_. The man was infuriating.

"You're insane, Malfoy," Potter had said one day after Draco suggested using Weasley as bait to catch Potter's stalker. The way things were going, if they got attacked any more, he and Potter would likely end up dead within the week. They needed to get proactive. Potter, however, disagreed. Which, Draco thought, was ridiculous. "I'm not doing that."

"No one's going to get hurt," Draco responded exasperatedly. "On my honor as a Malfoy, I promise you--"

" _Your honor as a Malfoy_? I can't imagine that's worth much."

Draco glared at him, furious. "Shut up, Potter, before I do something I live to regret... or, I probably wouldn't regret it actually, but that's not the point. The point is--"

"No! Ron's my friend!"

"Would you stop interrupting me and let me finish?" Potter quieted, scowling. "Right. It's a good plan, if you think about it. Also, try to remember, it's _you_ we need to protect and I refuse to let you be the bait and risk... or... what I mean is..." He desperately needed to change the subject. "I'm sure your precious Weasel would agree," he tried, "if it means capturing--"

"He probably would, but _I_ won't have it. You're not using Ron as bait. There will be no Polyjuice and there will be no--"

"You are completely hopeless, Potter. You're in danger. This plan is better than anyone's come up with so far. All Weasley has to do is Polyjuice into you... and he's an Auror, so as much as I'm loath to admit it, he probably has some skill in defending himself! And I'll be there. I've been trained to be able to spot any hidden adversaries, and I can--"

"Nothing you say is going to make me agree to this," Potter cut in, and if he did it once more, Draco was going to use a silencing charm, tie him up and _force_ him to listen. It was a good plan. "I won't do it. I won't let Ron do it. He's my best mate; I... I just won't have it."

Draco let out a frustrated sigh. It would work, he knew it would. "Fine," he said angrily. "I'll do it. I'll take the Polyjuice potion."

"No," Potter said quietly, looking away as he did. "I won't let you do it either. I... I just won't." 

Draco cursed Potter's ridiculous hero complex for what seemed like the millionth time. Honestly, it wasn't like Potter even cared about him. He just _had_ to play the martyr. "I don't believe it's your choice, Potter," Draco said scathingly. "I'll do whatever I damn well please."

Potter narrowed his eyes at Draco dangerously and took a few steps towards him. "I'm asking you," he said in a voice that implied that the consequences of denying him wouldn't be at all pretty, to say the least. "Please, don't do it."

Draco glared at him, doing his best to stare him down. He'd picked up the trick from his father at a fairly young age. All his father ever needed to do was stare at someone long enough and they'd do exactly what he asked of them. The trick usually worked for Draco as well. Usually. 

But not with Potter. Potter simply stared right back with a gaze so piercing and wild, Draco couldn't help but look away. It was bleeding unnerving. 

"Fine," Draco bit out. "You've asked. I'm saying no." He waited for a reply and was ecstatic when one didn't come. It wasn't often that he won an argument with Potter. He nodded at him and turned to leave the room. He didn't get very far.

"Petrificus Totalus," Potter said, and Draco fell. He didn't lift the spell until after he'd tied Draco up.

Draco was outraged. Of all the _nerve_. He was trying to _help_ Potter. Potter should be thanking him, not hexing him. 

"Unacceptable, Potter. Not even _you_ are going to get away with this, I'll see to it. I have connections. I know people." He struggled violently against his restraints.

"Oh, belt up Malfoy." 

"You'll be sorry--"

"No, I don't think I will," Potter said grinning. "Now, I'm going to Floo over to Ron's. He can take over for you until you've come to your senses."

"You wouldn't just leave me here," Draco said, fuming. "You're Harry Potter and you would never just--"

"Goodbye, Malfoy." And he was gone leaving Draco alone in the kitchen.

Draco was appalled. At himself and at Potter, though he could admit he was a bit impressed with the latter. He hadn't expected Potter to play dirty. If it were anyone else he was arguing with, Draco would have been prepared for something like this and never would have turned his back. But it was Potter and Potter was supposed to be noble and fair and all that rot. Potter was _not_ supposed to hex someone while their back was turned. It was low and horrible and so _unlike_ him and...

...and brilliant.

And Draco supposed maybe Potter wasn't as bad as he'd originally thought. Not if he could actually pull something off like this. The man clearly had no morals. Which Draco could see nothing wrong.

Draco grinned, sitting back in his chair, resigning himself to wait until Potter returned. "Morals are overrated," he said to no one in particular. "And I'll get the bleeding prat back for this."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. Part 1

  
Author's notes: Draco Malfoy loves his job. Especially when it means being able to torture Potter 'round the clock.   


* * *

Weeks went by with no break in the case, but not without many attacks. Potter never did learn his lesson and never left when Draco told him to. He did, however, learn to quit spinning in circles pointing his wand all willy-nilly, which Draco thought was an improvement. But they were getting nowhere. Draco never had time to call the Aurors. He was always too busy trying to get Potter to leave without getting them both killed in the process. Potter, however, didn't seem to care about that. 

"What part of 'it's _my job_ to keep you safe' don't you understand?" Draco had asked after they'd nearly been trampled by a herd of Chimaera all under the control of their unseen attacker. Draco hadn't known it was possible to conjure Chimaera with the Oppugno hex, but he decided he'd definitely look into it. And maybe report it. Possibly.

"You could try being grateful," Potter had responded. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if the flame had touched you? You're lucky I didn't 'just leave' like you asked."

"No," Draco shot back. " _You're_ lucky I was able to shield you from the bloody lightening the damn thing shot from it's tail. Did you know they could do that? I didn't know they could do that."

"Doesn't matter, Malfoy. It's your job, as you keep reminding me. But you would have been toast without me there. So stop complaining and be glad I didn't listen to you."

"Rubbish," Draco snapped shortly. "I never would've been distracted enough for the flame to get close if you would have just left when I told you to. But you _had_ to stay and help. Anything to get your name in the papers a bit more, eh?" Potter's face flushed red with anger at this, but Draco went on, completely unfazed. "Just stop trying to play the hero, Potter. It doesn't work for you anymore; it only makes things worse. At the rate you're going, _I'm_ going to need hire someone to look after _me_. No one from the Ministry, though. I abhor everyone I work with. They're useless, the lot of them."

"I'll do it."

Draco was silent. He stared at Potter wide eyed, wanting to slap him, or hex him, or possibly both. " _You're_ the reason I'd need the hired protection, you lunatic."

"No, really, Malfoy. I'll do it. Don't bother telling me to leave... I won't ever listen anyway... and I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

"It's _my job_ to make sure nothing happens to _you_ , you pillock."

"So do it. And _I'll_ make sure nothing happens to you. Besides, if you stop worrying about getting me to leave, you won't be distracted nearly as often." 

"No, Potter. Absolutely not--"

"Won't do you any good to argue. Even if you continue asking me to leave, I won't. But if you leave it off, it'll be easier for you."

Draco was passed frustrated. "Yes, but--"

"I won't leave you there alone."

Potter said things like that a lot. Always right in the middle of an argument, and it always threw Draco for a bit of a loop. They'd be arguing one second and the next, Potter would say something like that and Draco had no idea how to respond to it. It was unnerving and it made Draco feel like Potter... cared. Which was absurd, obviously. 

He sighed. "You're going to be the death of me, Potter. Reassignment's looking good right about now. I should just pawn you off on--"

"Promises, promises; you never follow through," he said, smiling at Draco. Draco hated that smile. "So, does this mean you'll stop trying to get rid of me?"

Draco hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "Shacklebolt will die of a heart attack if he finds out I'm not following procedure with you, of all people..." The idea of Shacklebolt having a heart attack only made the idea sound all that more appealing, though. Draco really did take pleasure in seeing the man's veins bulge dangerously under the skin of his bald head. It always somehow made him feel... accomplished. "Alright," he said, but he wasn't at all happy about it. It didn't seem fair that Potter always got his way. He shouldn't get his way with this one. Draco was _right_ , and it was his _job_. He'd taken oaths. He'd signed papers. Very official papers.

"Stop pouting, Malfoy," Potter said rolling his eyes. "Trust me, this way's better."

"Shut up, Potter, I don't pout."

"You do - and you are," he paused studying Draco for a moment. "Look...why don't we go to Ron's mum's? She's invited us for lunch and you can eat across from George and bother him all you like."

Draco perked up a bit. "I do love doing that... You and the Weasel won't hex me this time?"

Potter frowned. "Er... well… Just don't talk about money issues. Or family issues. Or the war. Or... If you could just _not_ talk..."

"Well, in that case," Draco said, falling onto Potter's sofa with a huff. "I don't want to go."

"Why don't we go out to eat, then?" Potter suggested, coming to sit next to Draco. "I'll buy."

"We get attacked every time we leave. I'd rather stay, thanks."

Potter shook his head. "Kingsley talked to you about this..."

"I told you, the man's on a power trip."

"Come on, Malfoy," Potter said, dropping his hand to rest on Draco's arm. "I doubt we'll get attacked twice in one day. And I'll let you harass innocent passersby. I won't say a word."

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched a bit. "I like doing that."

Harry laughed, squeezing Draco's arm before removing his hand. "I know you do."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You tricked me, Potter."

Potter snorted. "I didn't. I told you we could go out to eat, and I didn't even say anything when you yelled at that poor child on the way here. Which was low, by the way. He looked scared for his life."

"Low? That was not low," Draco said. "That 'child' was at least eighteen. _This_ is low. You play dirty, Potter; it's not like you. And it's not fair. When I said I didn't want to go, I meant I didn't want to see them. You shouldn't have invited them."

Potter sighed. "They're friends. They're okay."

"I hate you. A lot."

"‘S great, Malfoy. Me, too."

Draco sighed. There was conversation going on all around him and he really couldn't get a word in edge wise. Potter had invited Granger and the Weasel along. And the two of them had brought Finnigan and Thomas and the youngest Weasley, the girl. They were all chatting amiably, doing an amazing job of ignoring Draco altogether. It wasn't right. He hated the lot of them.

Especially the Weasley girl. He hated her most, and it was possible, he thought, that she was Potter's stalker. What was the expression...? Hell hath no fury like a witch scorned. She was staring at Potter with a shifty sort of look in her eye, and the longer she stared, the further up on Draco's list of suspects she went. And she kept touching Potter. Which was unnecessary. There was no reason for her to be touching him. She was probably up to something, Draco decided. He wasn't sure, but he planned on figuring it out. Something wasn't right with the girl and he was going to get to the bottom of it. After he switched seats with Potter. It was only right. All that touching was suspicious, and Potter could be in danger. 

"I haven't heard from you in awhile, Harry," she said, resting her hand on Potter's arm. 

"Er..." Potter said. "I haven't... Draco hardly ever lets me out of the house."

Draco? "Not true, Potter," Draco interrupted for no other reason than he hadn't really said much since they'd arrived to lunch. 

"It is," Potter insisted. "And I'm sorry, Ginny."

"It's all right," she responded, shooting a glare at Draco. He quieted, turning away. He remembered the Bat-Bogey Hex very well, and he shuddered to think what a couple of years had done to her. 

"Oi, Harry!" The Weasel called, and Draco was sure he saw Potter let out a relieved breath. Clearly the Weasley girl was torturing him. 

"Yeah, mate?" Potter responded.

"I forgot to mention," Weasley said. "Dennis is going to meet us here. They got him loose yesterday."

Well, damn.

"...Oh," said Potter, frowning. "He didn't have to come straight away."

Weasley nodded. "I told him that. He seemed a bit anxious to get here. Can't say I blame him. Considering—" Ron trailed off, nodding at Draco. Draco rolled his eyes. No tact whatsoever, that Weasel.

"Yeah, what's he still doing hanging around?" Finnigan said, finally looking at him. "Why haven't you gotten rid of him?"

"Shove off, Seamus," Potter said dismissively, but Draco caught his shoulders tensing up the slightest bit. He offered Draco an apologetic look. Draco rolled his eyes. 

Thomas looked concerned. "I saw Dennis today, now that you mention it. I think he's mostly anxious because of you, Harry, not Malfoy. He's quite taken with you. It's actually rather funny." Draco thought Thomas might not be so bad.

"So, you're waiting for Dennis to get here before you chuck Malfoy?" Finnigan tried again.

"No," Potter said shortly, staring into his drink. "I haven't been waiting for Dennis; I've been getting along fine with just Malfoy... and I'm not 'chucking him'."

Draco grinned smugly as those sitting at the table turned to look at him. Granger's look was calculating. Everyone else looked shocked.

"Harry..." the Weasley girl said, "he was never meant to be... You were supposed to talk to Shacklebolt."

Draco really hated that girl. She had a shifty look about her. 

"He's changed his mind. Obviously. And put your hands on the table where I can see them. Potter may trust you, but it's always the ones you least expect."

The girl looked appalled. "What?!" she shouted. Her brother stood up, wand in hand

"Hush, Malfoy," Potter muttered. "I've got it." Draco glared.

"Come on, mate," the Weasel said. "Dennis will be here soon and... He's... You can't want to spend anymore time with him than necessary. I certainly don't."

"Fine," Potter snapped. "You don't have to. We'll go."

"Harry," Granger said slowly. "I'm sure Ron didn't mean--"

Potter ignored her. "Come on, Draco."

Draco again? "Right. Have a nice meal. Or don't. And tell Creevey I said 'hello'. Or don't."

"Malfoy!"

Draco laughed, getting up and hurrying after Potter. "Honestly," he said when he caught up to him. "What was all that about? It's not like it's a secret that they don't like me. You don't even like me."

"Er... well..." Potter looked away frowning. "Actually, I just wanted to make a quick exit. I... don't really care much for Dennis. He always... saying things and... and... with Ginny already...” He sighed. “I just wanted to leave and it seemed like a good way."

"Yeah, to a Gryffindor. You should have said something. I could have gotten us out of there gracefully."

Harry laughed. "Yes, if you call blasting a hole through the wall and running away screaming 'savages, the lot of you!' like a little girl graceful."

"That was _one_ time, Potter," Draco shot back. "And I wasn't going for graceful then. I was going for dramatic."

Potter smirked and it shocked Draco. He was sure Potter had never smirked before. "The look on your face when you got the bill was very dramatic, now you mention it."

"How was I supposed to know that place was run by useless squibs? I didn't do any permanent damage. Any decent _Wizarding_ establishment would have had it fixed it no time."

Potter laughed, shaking his head. "So... what was the spell you used on Dennis? It took them quite awhile to get him sorted."

Draco grinned mischievously. "It was a Muggle potion, actually."

Potter frowned. "A Muggle potion?"

"Yes, I know. I didn't know Muggles had potions either, but they do." Draco nodded, smug. "Brilliant, really. Everyone assumed it was a sticking charm or something of the like. And once they found out what it actually was, no one would expect _I'd_ use a Muggle product. It was something called 'Supergoo'. I added a few potion ingredients to enhance the effects. And to prolong them."

Potter smiled at him fondly, though Draco couldn't imagine why. "Prat," Potter said.

Draco shrugged. "Guilty. And don't worry about Creevey. I knew he wouldn't stay stuck forever, I planned for this."

"I'm not surprised," Potter said dryly. "Er... he's not going to get hurt, is he?"

Draco gasped. "Potter!" he said, clutching his chest dramatically. "You must think so little of me. Of course he won't be hurt..." He paused, grinning. "...much."

"You have absolutely no morals."

"Morals are for Weasleys. And you're one to talk," he replied, elbowing Harry in the side. "Anyway, you don't like him. You're a little much to deal with on the best of days; I'll not have Creevey around making things worse."

Potter simply smiled at him again, reaching out to squeeze Draco's shoulder, hand resting there just a little longer than necessary. "You're... you're all right, Malfoy."

They walked the rest of the way back to Potter's flat, with Draco whispering charms the whole way there as was usual. For the first time since he'd started working for Potter, though, nothing happened. They weren't attacked.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You know, Potter, I don't think you have a stalker," Draco said, once they were back at Potter's flat in the kitchen. He liked it at Potter's flat. No Weasleys. No impending death.

"Really," Potter responded as he poured Draco a cup of coffee and handed it to him before sitting across from Draco at the table. "I've just been imagining the attacks, then?"

Draco rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. "No, you pillock, that's not what I mean," he said. "I mean, you're... well, don't take offence to this, but you're a very easy person to hate."

"Er," Potter responded. "Okay."

Draco nodded. "I've given it a lot of thought and I think it's much more plausible that people in general just don't like you and feel the need to hex you whenever they see you. I have to admit, I've had the urge more than a few times."

"And the threats?" Potter said, looking bored as he often did whenever they discussed the topic. "They were delivered directly to the Ministry; I wasn't lying about that, you know."

"Yes, I thought of that," Draco replied, feeling accomplished. "Obviously, it's all about me."

Potter laughed. "Oh," he said, amused. "I can't imagine why I didn't think of that."

Draco reached across the table, patting Potter's arm sympathetically. "It's alright, Potter, no one expects you to be quick with this sort of thing. I've always suspected you might be a bit, well, slow. I don't judge you for it. I've gotten to know you a bit, and you're so pathetic that I've decided to do my best to help you with your short-comings."

"I'm touched," Potter said flatly.

"Anyway," Draco went on, "I think the notes were sent by one of _my_ enemies. They sent them to the Ministry knowing full well that they would be forwarded to my department _and_ that I was the only one available, and therefore that I would be assigned. This whole thing was clearly someone's plan to make me miserable and put _me_ in danger."

"Obviously," Potter responded rolling his eyes. 

Draco frowned at him. "Have you got any better ideas?"

"A few," Potter said, lightly. "Actually, I was thinking..."

"I'm going to have to insist that you don't strain yourself with such things." Draco interrupted him. "You could get hurt, and it's my job to make certain you don't." 

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter responded without much malice. "I'm serious. I was talking to Ron today--"

"Yes, I know. It's unfortunate, but you're the one who chose to be his friend." 

"Will you listen?!"

Draco smirked. "I _am_ listening," he said, sighing. "Hurry up and get to the point."

Potter glared at him. "Ron has a couple of leads. I thought we could--"

"No," Draco said before he could finish. "Absolutely not. My job is to defend you and call for the Aurors, which I haven't been able to do because of you. I will _not_ go looking for trouble, you insane Gryffindor."

"Don't you want to know who it is? Don't you want to get this all over with?" Potter asked, and Draco frowned at him. That eager to get rid of him, was he? Draco sneered.

"I understand it can be frustrating having someone as useless as Weasley on the case, and believe me Potter, I don't want to be here any longer than I have to, but I'm _not_ going to--"

"We're just going to keep getting attacked and it's... it's dangerous."

Oh, that was rich coming from him, Draco thought. Dangerous? Like Potter ever cared when things were dangerous. Stupid, brave, pathetic prat. 

He hadn't realized he'd said it out loud until Potter responded. "I'm not worried about me," he said, getting out of his chair and walking across the room to lean against a counter.

Draco would really never get used to that. Potter worried about _him_? The thought alone was laughable. And Potter really had to stop saying things like that. It was unnerving and it made it hard for him to think. He _needed_ to think. Needed to keep a clear head, because when Potter said things like that, it made him want to do things. Crazy things, like give Potter exactly what he wanted. Just... Potter had to stop saying things like that. 

"You get hurt nearly every time," Potter went on, voice soft. "I don't... I want _that_ to stop." He met Draco's eyes as he chewed on his lower lip, and Draco decided Potter had to stop that as well. It was horridly distracting. Nothing made sense in the world when Potter said things that made it seem like he cared about him or did things that made Draco that made Draco want to...

He shook his head to clear it, running a hand through his hair before speaking. "If you don't want me getting hurt," he said, voice low, "then why are suggesting one of your ridiculous suicide missions?"

"I'm not," Potter snapped. "I'm suggesting that we go over the evidence and see what conclusions we come to."

The look Draco shot him was skeptical at best. Rubbish. Absolute rubbish. Potter had the Look, and Draco had come to know that look and it almost always nearly got someone killed. 

"It's the truth," Potter said at Draco's look. "I just wanted to go over the evidence." He paused, grinning. " _Then_ , I was going to suggest we do something about it."

"I hate you, Potter," Draco said, doing his best to fight a grin in response and sighed. "I know you feel useless when you're not helping—when you're not doing things." He paused and frowned as he went over what he'd just said and added, "You're useless, anyway, mind, but I know you hate not being able to do anything."

Harry smiled at him, biting his lip again, and Draco looked away quickly.

"But the answer is still 'no'," he said, frowning. He was sure Potter smiled like that on purpose, just to get his way. He was manipulative; Draco wouldn't put it past him. 

It was an argument that Potter wasn't going to win. Draco wouldn't have it, and an hour, two broken coffee cups, a few hexes, and a fire later, Potter had given in and let the subject drop, leaving the room in a huff. 

Draco grinned, raising his wand to put the fire that still blazed on the back of one of the table chairs out. He was fond of winning. It was the way things should be and--

"I'll go without you, you know," Potter shouted from the living room. 

Draco grin disappeared and he pulled out his wand, fully prepared to let Potter know exactly what it felt like to spend hours bound to his furniture.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Potter almost kissed Draco once. Their lips had never quite touched, but Draco had been sure Potter was only seconds away from kissing him.

They'd been fighting. Potter had gone for a walk in the early hours of the morning and it was stupid and crazy and Potter could have been hurt. 

"But I _wasn't_ hurt," Potter said had said frowning. "So it doesn't matter."

"What on earth were you thinking, you complete idiot?!" Draco yelled. He was furious. He'd been pacing the living room for what seemed like hours. What sort of madman goes out alone when their life is in danger?

"I couldn't sleep," Potter said, voice turning angry. "What with you _hogging_ my bed. And I... just needed to think." He turned, storming out of the room. Draco followed right behind him.

"First," he snapped, trailing behind the other man. "I wouldn't have to sleep in your bed if you'd get a suitable one for the other bedroom, like I told you, and second, why couldn't you _'think'_ in the living room? Or in the other bedroom?"

"I just needed to breathe!" Potter snapped, whirling around to face Draco. "You're always around and you're... always... I just needed to _breathe_.

Draco glared at him, more furious than he'd ever been. Potter was having trouble breathing with him around, was he? As if Draco's presence was all that intolerable. Well, sod him. Draco didn’t want to be there anymore than Potter wanted him. "Don't be so dramatic, you prick. And you'd be rid of me a lot sooner if you'd just _leave_ when we're attacked! I can't call the Aurors with you there; I'd lose my _job_!"

"That's not... that's not what I mean," Potter said, turning to get away from Draco again. Draco wasn't having it. Potter wouldn't be getting off that easy.

"I forbid you to ever go out alone again," Draco shouted, still following the other man. "If you don't want me to go with you, fine! Call Weasley. Or Granger. But you're _never_ to--"

"Bugger off, Malfoy!" Potter snapped and sat on his bed. Draco didn't even realize they'd walked into the room. "You're not my keeper."

Draco laughed, maliciously. "Oh, but I am, Potter. Until Weasley or _somebody_ catches--"

"Fuck off!"

"I'd love to," Draco said. He was shaking and he couldn't figure out why he was so angry, except that Potter was a suicidal lunatic and he was saying he didn’t want Draco around and he _hated_ him just now. 

"Then why don't you?" Potter snapped, standing up and moving towards Draco. Draco hand went instinctively to his wand. "You don't want to be here, so leave!"

"It's my jo--"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy. Just shut the fuck up and get out!" He shoved Draco. 

"Why?" Draco shouted, shoving him back. "So you can run off and get yourself killed? Not that I care, mind," he added. "If you ask me, the world would be a better place if you'd kicked right along with Voldemort and the Weasley twin and-"

"Oh, of course," Potter said, shoving him against the wall behind him. "How silly of me, I forgot, you don't care about anyone but yourself." He shoved him again. "Oh, wait," he continued. "No, I didn't."

"And you do?" Draco shot back, moving to shove Potter again. Potter didn't give him the chance; he moved closer to Draco, pinning him to the wall, his forearm against Draco's throat. Draco went on, not at all intimidated. "You could have fooled me," he went on. "Running around, being reckless, trying to get yourself killed... Such a nice way of showing Weasley and Granger you care. Ha! You don't! You don't give a damn if you hurt them or..." he was absolutely not going to end that sentence with 'me'. 

"I do care!" Potter shouted, moving his hands down to clench in Draco's shirt. He pulled Draco away from the wall only to slam him painfully back against it. Draco winced, eyes shutting momentarily. "I care," Potter said, and Draco opened his eyes at the sound of Potter's voice breaking, and he was sure Potter hadn't been that close before and he was looking at Draco's mouth and he was chewing on his bleeding lips and Draco wondered if insanity was catching because Potter's was rubbing off on him.

"I fucking care, Draco," Potter said once more. The words were whispered, and Potter must have done serious damage when he had his arm pressed against his throat, because it was really bleeding hard to _breathe_ all of a sudden. And obviously Draco's brain wasn't getting enough oxygen, because he was doing crazy things like licking his lips when Potter leaned forward just the slightest bit and his eyes drifted shut and...

Potter pulled away.

Draco's eyes snapped open. "Wha-"

"I'm," Potter interrupted, not looking at him. "I'm sorry, I just..." He sighed. "It won't happen again."

And really, Draco wanted to ask 'which part', because he was sure Potter was going to kiss him and his brain was clearly not working right, because he couldn't quite convince himself that he really did _not_ want that. 

"Are you..." Potter asked. "Are we okay? Can we just... get breakfast and forget about all this?"

Draco nodded, unable to speak, only he wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon, not with Potter biting his lip like that and... and _looking_ at him.

Merlin, Draco hated him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny Weasley made Draco want to hit things. Fluffy things. And then laugh at them afterwards. She was absolutely intolerable.

Things had been somewhat tense between he and Potter since their fight, which was why, Draco thought, it'd had been a few days since they'd actually been alone together. Potter seemed to be avoiding it. Each day he'd invite someone else over. Today it was Ginny Weasley.

She touched Potter far too much for Draco's liking. Which was utterly unnecessary; it's not like they were dating or anything. And she was constantly giving Draco these odd, territorial looks, like she had some sort of a claim over Potter. Which she didn't. He was sure of it. He and Potter had spent every waking minute together for quite awhile and he never mentioned anything about having some sort of strange, unhealthy relationship with odd little Weasley things.

"How long has it been since you've seen you're friends, Mal - Draco," she asked him when Harry excused himself to use the loo.

"Not long," he said. "They bring food occasionally. Potter hates shopping. And I hate leaving this place."

"Right," she said, trying to smile. "And Dennis? How's he?"

"Er," Draco said, wincing at how much like Potter he sounded. He couldn't very well tell her that he'd made Creevey a nice, temporary home at the bottom of the lake at Hogwarts. She'd tell Potter and Potter would be angry, even if Draco assured him Creevey could breathe and was quite safe. Possibly even happy with the giant squid so close by.

"He's fine," Draco said.

The Weasley girl nodded, fidgeting in her chair a bit. "So, everything's working out, then? You all aren't in danger here at the flat?"

Draco really didn't like where this was going. "No..." he responded slowly.

She nodded again looking towards the hall, where Potter had disappeared. "Do you think you might..." She trailed off, and Draco raised his eyebrows, hands clenched under the table, because _no_. The answer was 'no' if she thought he was-- "Do you think you might be able to give us a bit of time together? Alone?"

No. He was not leaving. She couldn't make him and what the hell was taking Potter so long? He knew better than to leave Draco alone with Weasleys. Someone was going to end up in St. Mungo’s, and loathe as he was to admit it, he couldn't be sure it wouldn't be him. He'd experienced the wrath of the Weasley girl once before. It hadn't been pleasant.

"Malfoy?" She tried again. "It wouldn't be long."

"No," he said aloud, hand moving toward his wand. He had no problem with hexing women. None whatsoever. He would not leave Potter alone with her. She could... she could be the stalker. He couldn't just leave; it was his _duty_ to stay. He nodded to himself and the Weasley girl frowned at him.

"What?" she asked, and Draco was sure he wasn't imagining the dangerous tone in her voice. His hand tightened around his wand. "I thought you said he wasn't in danger here?"

"Well, I don't trust you," he said, glaring at her, looking directly into her eyes.

"Excuse me?" she said, voice rising.

"You heard me. And I have no reason to. You've been mauling him all day, and how do I know that the second I'm gone--"

"Mauling him?! I've not been _mauling_ him, Harry's my--"

"Your _what?!_ " Draco snapped, ignoring the odd feeling in his stomach. She fell silent. "That's what I thought."

Weasley's eyes narrowed. "Look, you little prick, you don't have to trust me, _Harry does_. We... we're not together, not that it's any of your business, but--"

"Oh, but it is my business. _He's_ my business now," Draco shot back and cringed. "I mean, well... it's my job to make him my business, and you'll do well to remember that I can hex you right now, no questions asked, if I feel you're a danger to--"

"You son of a--"

"Hey," Potter interrupted as he re-entered the kitchen, straightening his clothes. "Did I miss something? I thought you two said--"

"Can I have a word, Harry?" Weasley said, and Draco sneered at her. She ignored him, adding, "Alone."

"Er..." Potter said, looking at Draco. "I suppose..." 

The two of them exited the room and Draco wondered just how illegal it'd be to drop a Weasley off of a cliff. She was a witch; it's not as if she couldn't use magic to keep herself from hitting the ground. And no one ever needed to know if Draco happened to take her wand before dropping her off said cliff. She was a Weasley; it shouldn't be too hard to convince people that she'd simply been too stupid to use magic. All he'd need to do is drop her wand after her. No one would ever suspect. And who'd miss her anyway?

He was close to perfecting his plan to separate Miss Weasley from her wand when he heard the front door to the flat slam, and moments later, Potter was storming back in the room and throwing himself into a chair. He didn't look at Draco, just stared down at the table, running his fingers through a puddle of water on the surface.

"Potter?" Draco tried tentatively, recognizing the look on Potter's face. The man was likely to throw a fit any second.

"Mm," Potter responded noncommittally.

"What," Draco said, "what was that all about?"

Potter sighed. He sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. He ran a hand through his hair. "I shouldn’t expect her to just... forgive everything just because I--" He paused, glancing briefly at Draco before finishing. "Er... well, because I need you to... well... because you... er..." Potter trailed off, frowning.

"I see," Draco said, teasing. "On second thought, I really don't," he went on. "I never did anything to her. Well... no less than she's done to me. I still have nightmares about that Bat-Bogey Hex, I'll have you know." He paused, rethinking that. "Or, I _would_ have nightmares about it, were I a lesser man. It was terrifying."

Potter laughed, looking at Draco with an odd look in his eyes before turning away. "I'm sure."

"What do you...?" Draco said, studying him. "What do you see in her? She's not..." He stopped short before that sentence could go anywhere dangerous.

Potter stood, walking over to the kitchen sink, muttering something about first girlfriends and not being able to help it.

"Why aren't you with her, then?" Draco asked, hoping like hell Potter didn't hear the bitter edge in his voice. 

Potter sighed, turning on the water and clogging the sink. He did that often. He filled the sink with water and soap, only to drain it when he realized he was a wizard and there were easier ways to wash dishes. "It's complicated," he said, putting his hands atop the counter and leaning forward. "It just... We tried and nothing felt... right." He sighed. "And now..."

"Now what?" Draco asked, sitting up in his chair.

"Nothing," Potter said, and Draco frowned as he started to do the dishes by hand. "Just... nothing."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a disgustingly long time before Draco admitted to himself Potter might actually mean something to him; something more than keeping his job.

Potter was an idiot. Constantly going around jumping in front of dangerous hexes. He was stupid and self-sacrificial and pathetic, and Draco hated himself for caring but...

...Potter was hurt.

He was hurt and Draco was going to kill him if he survived. The healers talked about severe lung damage and rubbish that made absolutely no sense to Draco's worry ridden mind, and it was _his_ fault for listening to Potter, letting him talk Draco into letting him 'help' and letting his stupid words and that infuriating smile get to him and... and Draco was going to kill him.

A blasting hex right to the chest that was supposed to hit Draco. He hadn't seen it coming. He'd turned away for just a second, distracted by the wild, alive, sound of Potter's laugh, and he hadn't seen it coming. The hex came hurling at him and Potter... Potter jumped in front of it. He just... jumped in front of it and Draco swore he was going to _kill him_ the second he woke up for being so bleeding stupid.

He hated that he cared and he hated that the healers weren't yet sure when the idiot would wake up and he hated himself, but not near as much as he hated _Potter_.

He was going to _kill_ him.

He paced back and forth beside Potter's bed at St. Mungo’s, wondering where the hell the healers were. You'd think they'd be all over the place with the savior of the Wizarding World unconscious in one of their beds. Ungrateful sods. 

He was on the verge of going back out of the room to harass the unit witch when the healer would be back when Granger entered the room followed closely by Weasley. Both of them took one look at Potter and glared at him with all the hatred they could muster.

Draco never got the chance to speak. Weasley hauled off and hit him. In the middle of a hospital, for Merlin's sake. Animal.

"Ron!" Granger shrieked. She grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "Now is not the time."

Weasley sighed, his eyes never leaving Draco. His face was redder than Draco had ever seen it, his fists clenched at his sides. 

Draco held his gaze, taking out his wand and healing the cut on his now swollen lip. He lifted his hand to his mouth gingerly, wincing when he found it was still sore. "Neanderthal," he muttered. He moved toward Potter, doing his best to keep himself from ordering Potter's lackeys to _sod off_.

"Don't you touch him," Weasley snapped as Draco reached out to lay a hand on Potter's arm. "I think you've done enough damage."

"Bugger off, Weasel," Draco said, voice low and dangerous. "You weren't there; you don't know what happened."

"I don't need to know," Weasley shot back, eyes blazing. "You were supposed to... It was your job to keep him safe, and you didn't."

"He's not dead, is he?" Draco spat. "I did better than you two did, at any rate."

Weasley charged again and Granger grabbed for him, but he slipped away effortlessly. She opened her mouth, presumably to call after him, but the Weasel fist was already sailing through the air fast and carrying the promise of considerable damage to Draco's nose. Draco stepped back, closing his own hand into a fist. He wasn't about to let Weasley knock him around. Not without fighting back.

"Ron, don’t." Granger said, and Weasley fist stopped just short of Draco's face, and Draco thanked whatever gods that were listening that Granger had spoken up and spared him.

Only... it wasn't Granger who spoke.

"Potter!" Draco said at the same time Weasley and Granger shouted, "Harry!"

The two others raced toward Potter, speaking at once.

"We were so worried."

"I knew Malfoy would do something like this."

"You've got to learn to be more careful, I thought you said--"

"He's careful, Hermione, it's that git Malfoy who--"

"I'm sure he did all he could, Ron, he--"

"Rubbish. It's probably Malfoy that set him up; I wouldn't put it past him--"

"I'll kill you for this, Potter." 

The room fell silent as though those who occupied it looked to him as though just realizing he was still there.

"You can go now, Malfoy," Granger said, tentative. "We'll take care of him."

"Yeah," Weasley put in, oh so, helpfully. "Sod off."

Draco didn't say a word, merely glared at Potter, hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face tinted pink.

"Er," Potter said, looking at Draco the way he always did after Draco had been injured in one of the attacks. Draco winced. "Look," Potter said, without looking away from Draco. "Could you two... er, that is..." He sighed. "I need a minute."

Weasley's jaw dropped and he gaped at him. Granger's eyes jumped back and forth between the two of them for a moment. It took them forever to actually move. "Come on, Ron," Granger said, pulling at his arm. He mouthed wordlessly, face going red once more, but he went with her.

Draco waited, speaking only when he heard the door shut. "Potter, you are by far the most--"

"I'm sorry," Potter said quickly. "I didn't want... I thought..." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Can't you ever just be grateful? At least you weren't hurt this time."

And really, what was Draco supposed to say to that? Some rubbish about how he wished he would have been? No. It wasn't the truth anyway. He just—wished Potter _hadn't_ been. Wished he didn't care that he had. Wished that things were simpler and it was only a job. 

But he wasn't about to say that. 

"I hate you, Potter," he spat, and that was much easier to say. "You're crazy and you could have _died_... You... you... Have you never heard of the Protego charm, you complete imbecile?"

"Draco…"

"You could have _died_ , Potter. _Died_. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but I feel you should know that not everyone comes back from that, and also, I don't think even _you_ are lucky enough to have that happen twice."

"Draco, I'm--"

"I don't _care_ if you're sorry!" Draco shouted and he was breathing heavy and he'd have hit Potter if he wasn't already broken. "You were almost killed," he repeated. He really couldn't stress that point enough. "You can't..." He continued, furious. "You can't go around... doing that. You could have gotten yourself killed and then where would I be?" He vowed to hex himself later for those words. He went on. "You said you'd be more careful. You said you _cared_ and... you almost died and I'd have lost my job and Shacklebolt would have murdered me... if Weasley didn't do it first..." He sighed, lowering his voice. "You can't... You just can't go around jumping in front of blasting hexes, you maniac! You're going to get yourself killed and I... I should have been..." 

He took a deep breath, hating himself more and more with every word and not able to stop himself at the same time. 

"You're going to be the death of me, Potter. I fucking... I hate you. I hate you, and if you _ever_ \--" He took a deep breath. "You're not to do anything like this _ever_ again. You'll end up dead and I _don't care_... except... I might..." Talking was excruciatingly difficult sometimes. He sighed, looking up at Potter.

Potter was smiling. He was actually smiling and Draco didn't care if he was hurt, he was going to hit him anyway. Or hex him. Or possibly both.

"I hate you," he said once more, dropping into the chair next to Potter's bed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. "I've always hated you."

He felt Potter's hand on his shoulder. "I know you do, Malfoy," he said, and Draco could _hear_ that insufferable smile in his voice. "I hate you as well."

"Oh, sod off. Stop trying to make me feel better."

"Of course not," Potter said, and he could really stop smiling now. "I don't see what you're upset about in the first place," he added lightly, but Draco caught the bitter edge his voice carried. "What with you not caring if I died."

Draco shrugged as he lifted his head from his hands. "There's losing my job. I'm upset about that. Also, you're crazy and it pains me to know you."

"Hush, Malfoy," Potter said and coughed. Draco tried to hide his wince at that. "You don't know what you'd do without me," Potter continued, voice ragged. He coughed again and tried to sit up. Draco immediately pressed a hand against his shoulder and shoved him back down, none too gently.

"Lay down, you pillock! You're injured." He sat on the edge of his seat, keeping his hand on Potter's shoulder. To keep him down. You could never be too sure with crazy people.

Potter rolled his eyes.

"And I do know what I'd do without you," Draco went on. "I'd buy your flat and carry out my plans to rid the world of all Weasleys. I've left off for you, Potter, because I think you'd be even crazier if they were gone, but keep pushing me. I'll--"

"Draco?"

"Yes... Harry?" It felt weird in his mouth.

"Thanks," he said, reaching up to squeeze the hand Draco currently had on his shoulder. "And I'm sorry."

Draco shrugged, squeezing the hand in his own. "Me, too," he said, grudgingly, not meeting his eyes. "I suppose."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	3. Part 3

  
Author's notes: Draco Malfoy loves his job. Especially when it means being able to torture Potter 'round the clock.   


* * *

Draco hated sick people. He'd had to care for Hannah Abbot when he was on detail for her and she'd milked it. Made him wait on her hand and foot. By the time she got back on her feet, Draco was the one who was a threat to her life. She was lucky they'd solved the case almost immediately after she'd recovered. He'd have murdered her if he had to spend any more time with her.

But Harry was different and he hated Harry's behavior even more than Hannah's. 

Harry absolutely refused help. For once, Draco actually wanted to help, and the prat wouldn't let him.

"You're doing this just to spite me," Draco said as Harry returned to the sitting room with lunch that he refused to let Draco make for him. "I have to eat anyway, and it's my fault you were hurt. You should have let me make it."

"I'm not hurt anymore," Harry replied with something akin to affection in his voice. He sat down on the sofa, closer to Draco than was necessary, and Draco tried to ignore the way he leaned into him slightly. "They healed me at the hospital. I've been fine since before we left. I've been fine all week. I won't have you coddling me."

Draco frowned. "You need to learn how to be properly injured," he said. "You sicken me, Harry. This is the only time I'll ever offer to do anything for you. You should take advantage of it."

Harry laughed and Draco elbowed him gently before stealing a carrot from his plate and rolled his eyes as Harry swatted his hands away, smile still in place. And for once, Draco wasn't at all bothered by it.

It was all right. 

"I want to watch the Muggle box," Draco announced suddenly, after he swallowed. "Give me the wand."

"It's a remote, Draco," Harry said handing it to him. "You know that already, I've told you plenty. And don't wave it at the TV this time; you know how to use the buttons."

"Hush," Draco said, stealing another carrot. "I'll call it whatever I wish."

Harry sighed and leaned into him as Draco turned on the Muggle box. Draco tensed. He’d been doing that a lot. Touching. It affected Draco far more than he expected it to. "You need to eat more, P-Harry," he said. "I can feel your bones... and I bruise easy."

"You have absolutely no room to talk. You're far worse than I am."

Draco snorted, snatching yet another carrot. "Keep that up, Potter. See if I ever make you lunch again."

"You didn't--"

"Quiet, I can't hear the Muggle box."

Things had been like this all week. He and Harry... changed after the 'accident', though he still wasn't used to using that name. He'd called him Potter for so long, he almost forgot Harry _had_ a first name, and if it weren't for the fact that everyone in the Wizarding World used it on a daily basis, he would have.

Calling Harry by his given name was the smallest of the things that had changed. Harry touched him more and smiled and Draco was tired of telling himself he didn't like it. Tired of telling himself he didn't want it. That he didn't want Harry. Not that he'd ever say that out loud. Even if Potter almost _had_ kissed him... Draco still wasn't sure. And he wouldn't risk it.

It was nice being able to admit it to himself, though. Mentally berating himself every time he looked at Harry's lips or stared too long at his bare chest before bed or let his hand brush against Harry's hand and left it there for just a bit too long... It was exhausting.

And worrying. Being so close _all the time_ was almost more tempting than Draco could handle. He could admit that he liked Harry's company but... he couldn't be around him so much, he couldn't risk doing something stupid and losing...l osing whatever the hell it was he and Harry had already. He couldn't keep staying there, at Harry's flat, with Harry so close all the fucking time. He needed the case to be over. 

"I was thinking," Harry said, breaking into his thoughts. "We should go to Ron's mum's today. I haven't been by since, well, you know, and she'll have a fit if I don't at least come round and let her know I'm alive."

Draco nodded absently. He needed to have a conversation with the Weasel anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Weasley's list of suspects consisted of mostly Slytherins, including Draco himself, much to his chagrin. Draco suspected Weasley's personal biases were entering his work, but after looking at the evidence he was shocked to see that Weasley might actually be a halfway decent Auror.

He had the threats and the results of a handwriting analysis. Magical signatures left behind at all of the attacks and possible matches. 

The list of suspects had shortened quite a bit since Draco had last seen the case file. Names were crossed off with words scribbled next to them in Weasley's horrid handwriting. Some had been taken off the list because their magical signatures weren't a match. Others, like Flint, had been proved innocent by being at a Quidditch match during one of the attacks. 

Draco had cringed when he saw the name at the top of the list, Theodore Nott, and while Draco was near sure Theodore wasn't stupid enough to send threatening letters before trying to kill someone, Draco was sure he might at least know who would.

Draco decided to pay him a little visit. 

He left Harry with Finnigan and the Weasel and made his excuses, ignoring the way Harry was frowning at him the entire time. He'd told them he was going to check on his mother. He wasn't sure whether or not he'd mentioned that his mother was currently out of the country, but figured he could explain that away if he had. He just... couldn't let Harry know what he was really doing. Harry was likely to do something stupid, like try and come with him.

So he lied, stepped out of Harry's flat, walked a few streets down and Disapparated. Harry would thank him when it was over.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Theodore Nott lived in the sort of place Draco had hoped to find Harry in upon being assigned to his case. The house was rotting. The windows were so dirty curtains weren't necessary for privacy. Spider webs hung in nearly every corner of the living room and the sofa looked like a death trap. Draco refused to sit in it as politely as he could when Theodore offered.

He and Theodore had been friends back at Hogwarts. Well... not really friends. Theodore fancied himself better than Draco and everyone else for that matter. Draco had hated him, for the most part.

Until they fucked. And even then, Draco didn't necessarily like him. However, there weren't many students at Hogwarts that shared Draco's... preferences. Theodore did. They had an arrangement. Nothing more.

Draco had been right in assuming that'd be enough to get him past the front door. Theodore had always kept to himself. He was never much for people. Which was why it was completely mind-boggling that Theodore should know so much about, well, everyone, but he did. He was rather observant. If anyone knew who was attacking Harry, Theodore Nott would. Draco had no idea why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Probably because until recently he hadn't really cared. But Harry's stay in St. Mungo's was more than enough to make him. He wouldn't let anything like that happen again.

"So," Theodore said, taking a seat on the sofa that Draco had refused to even go near. "What brings you here? To my house? I haven't seen you in years. Or," he paused, giving Draco a mischievous smile, "I haven't heard from you, at least. I've been _seeing_ a lot of you these passed weeks, actually."

He couldn't have been more obvious if he'd outright admitted to being the one that attacked Harry. He'd forgotten... Theodore Nott was a right bastard. He knew how to manipulate Draco better than any other... except possibly Harry, and considering Draco was sure Harry didn't do it on purpose, he didn't think he counted. 

Theodore was up to something. Draco didn't know what, but he knew that Theodore wouldn't give anything away without having a reason. 

Draco swallowed. "Yes, I figured as much," he lied, trying to keep his cool. It was best to just go along with the other man; pretend Theodore wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. It was hard to hide his shock, though, and harder still to keep himself from hexing Theodore. He hadn't thought Theodore was actually the attacker. Just that he'd know about it.

He'd kill him. He wouldn't give Weasley the chance to arrest him; he'd kill him first. 

"Since when do you care enough about Potter to try and _protect_?" Theodore was still smiling. Draco wondered if the smile would still be there after he killed him

"Since when do you care enough about _anyone_ to go to the trouble of trying to kill them?" Draco retorted. Keeping the venom out of his voice just wasn't possible.

"I don't," Theodore respond in lofty tones, brushing a bit of dust off of his shirt. "But the money's good."

Not good enough, from the look of his house, but that was off the point. Money? He was... hired? Bollocks, there'd be no killing him then. Not if there were others involved.

"Which brings me to why I'm here," Draco said, thinking fast. "I work at the Ministry. I was the assigned Wizardguard on Potter's case."

Theodore raised his eyebrows. "And?"

Draco forced a lazy smirk. "Money," he said. "I'd like more. My family didn't lose everything after the war... like yours seemed to have," he added looking around. "But we lost some. I want in on this. I'll... try not doing my job quite so well if there are a few Galleons in it for me. I might even be able to bring Potter straight to you. Who's paying you?"

Theodore laughed at him. "You expect me to tell you? Really? I didn't think you were that stupid." His expression turned serious as he regarded Draco with calculating eyes. "But I'll see if he'll contact you"

Draco grinned. And it was genuine. He wouldn't go to Weasley with this. He'd kill them both.

And hopefully Potter wouldn't mind keeping to the flat just a bit longer. He didn't seem to mind not going places lately. He looked like he felt guilty even asking to go to the Weasleys. It shouldn't be that hard to keep him out of danger while Draco worked. 

It wouldn't be long now. He made his excuses to Theodore and saw himself out the front door.

And was promptly punched. He heard his nose crack. 

" _Liar_ ," Harry said, eyes blazing. 

And before Draco had a chance to respond, he shocked Draco once more and Apparated away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything was ruined. He and Harry... Draco had almost allowed himself to hope... but that didn't matter. Potter was _there_. He probably thought Draco was joining Nott, or God knows what Harry thought, but he'd _hit_ Draco and it couldn't be anything good. Draco needed to see him. He needed to explain. Things would be alright after he explained. Harry would understand...

Draco waited for him in the flat. Harry had to come home sooner or later. There was, of course, the chance that he'd go to a friend's or, Merlin forbid, the Ministry, but Harry's flat was Draco's only choice.

So he waited. He paced the living room for what seemed like hours. He went through the cupboards in the kitchen searching for food he knew wasn't there and knew he wouldn't eat even if it was. 

And he cleaned. The dirty, pathetic Muggle way. 

He was losing his mind.

Hours passed and still no Harry. He considered going to Mrs. Weasley's, but decided against it. Harry had probably told them, even if he wasn't with them now. He could only imagine how badly the Weasleys would hex him if he went there. He was sure they wouldn't attempt anything illegal, but that wouldn't matter if all of them hexed him at once. He had experience with being hexed with a variety of spells at once and it'd taken him quite awhile to recover. And it'd been school children hexing him that time. He shuddered to think what would happen in a room full of adults all itching to see him in pain.

The clock on the wall in Harry's living room was laughing at him. He was sure of it. Each second felt like an eternity, and it might not have been nearly as bad if Draco could just stop looking at the damn thing, but he couldn't. 

Where the _fuck_ was Potter?

He couldn't _sleep_ at the Weasleys, could he?

He sat down on the sofa in a huff, cursing his constricted throat and his inability to breathe properly. And cursing Potter because it was all his fault. If he would have just _asked_ or let Draco _explain_...

He needed to see him. He wondered if Potter had left his invisibility cloak. He could go to Mrs. Weasley's or Granger's and just... check. Find out if Potter was there and safe, because knowing him, he was probably alone and Theodore could be...

Draco got up. He was going to find Potter if it killed him, and Merlin help him, if it did, he'd haunt Potter for the rest of his sorry, pathetic life. He grabbed his wand off the coffee table and his cloak and headed for the door. He was just stepping out when he heard the fire roar behind him. He stumbled in his hurry to get back in.

"Where. _The Fuck._ Have you been?"

Potter took one look at him and turned back around, reaching for the floo powder. He didn't say a word.

"I'll hear where you're going," Draco informed him, heart pounding in his chest. Potter stopped short of the bowl, hand falling to his side. Draco sincerely hoped he wouldn't Apparate again. "I'll follow you."

"Get. Out." It was a voice Draco had never heard from him before. It was low and dangerous, dripping with hatred and... it hurt. It hurt and Harry had to let him fucking explain.

Draco stepped forward. "No," he said, ignoring the quiver in his voice. "I won't." Harry's hand visibly tightened around his wand and Draco raised his own, casting a quick tracking spell. Best to be prepared. "And I'll know where you are if you try and Apparate again." Harry gaped at him. "Where were you?" Draco repeated. "So help me, Potter, if you were out alone..."

"Why the fuck do you care?!" Harry shouted. "Give you and your little friends the perfect opportunity to--"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Draco interrupted, stepping closer still. Harry couldn't honestly think Draco had anything to do with it. He quickly wracked his brain trying to remember his conversation with Nott. 

"Don't I?" Harry shot back, moving closer to him. "But I was there, Malfoy, I _heard_ you. I heard everything."

Everything? There's no way he heard everything. "No, Harry, you--"

"What was it you said? 'I might even be able to bring Potter straight to you'. Or, 'We're going to have to do something about your aim, you've hit _me_ with more than one of your creative little spells.' Something like that?"

And fuck all, that sounded bad, but Potter was getting it all wrong. He should have told him. Not everything, but something. He should have... This was going all wrong. "You don't understand, I was only--"

"You're a _liar,_ Malfoy. All you've done... You lied." Harry's voice was breaking, and that almost hurt worse than the tone of hatred. And _Merlin_ , Draco needed him to just... just look at him. Harry knew him; he'd know if he would just... look at him.

"No, I didn't lie, I--" His heart was pounding beneath his chest and he had to tell him. He'd tell him everything. Everything, no matter how embarrassing and pathetic. He'd tell him that he cared and that he was trying to protect him and _not_ because it was his bleeding job but because if he had to see Harry hurt again... Potter had to believe him. Draco would never...

"Why would you even bother coming back here? To try and finish the job? I _know_ now and if you think I'm going to--"

"Potter! That's not--"

"Shut up," Potter spat. "I don't want to fucking hear it."

"Well you're going to," Draco snapped, frustrated. He moved toward Potter and pushed him. And then pushed him again. "I'll make you listen." Another push. "I don't care if I have to--"

"What?! What could you possibly do, Malfoy?" And now Harry was looking at him, but it wasn't at all the look Draco expected. His eyes were bright, but not their usual bright. Glowing, this time. Glowing green like death, and Draco had to resist the urge to retreat. To back away, wand raised.

"I didn't have anything to do with it," Draco said, and Potter laughed derisively, snorting something that sounded like 'rubbish', but Draco went on. At least Potter was letting him speak. "I was just... Nott and I, we used to be... friends; I thought I could get some information out of him. I thought he might know who's been attacking you."

"Bullshit! _He's_ been attacking me. And you knew about it. Merlin, you've probably been helping!"

"No, I swear. I just... I just wanted... He assumed... Harry, I would never fucking--"

"Why didn't you just get it over with when I was unconscious? Why even bother taking me to the hospital?"

"For the last time," Draco said. "I had _nothing_ to do with it."

"Was it fun?"

What the hell was he going on about now? 

"Your little game," Harry went on. "Was it fun? Making me trust you... and making me..." He took a deep breath. " _Was it fun_? I fucking... I... I _trusted_ you..."

Oh God, he was getting nowhere and Potter was backing away from him toward the fireplace and Draco would _NOT_ let him leave. "You said it yourself," he said, desperate now. "I had plenty of chances to 'finish the job', not just while you were unconscious, but I didn't. I _wouldn't_." Harry rolled his eyes and really, enough was enough. "Goddamnit, Potter!" Draco snapped moving close. He fisted his hands in Potter's shirt and slammed him against a wall. He tried not to wince when Potter's head banged against it painfully. "I had nothing to do with this. It was an _act_. I'll swear it under Veritaserum. I did that for _you_ , you prick. I wanted you..." _safe_. 

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry said venomously, shoving Draco away, and it was extremely pathetic that Draco was actually happy about it. Happy that at least he hadn't killed him yet. Happy that Harry was touching him at all.

"It's true. I would never--"

"And why should I believe you?" 

Draco growled. "Because, I'm _telling_ you and you _said_ you trusted me and--"

"I did, Malfoy," Harry said, and his voice broke again and Draco needed to... to do something, to touch him, to... something. "I _did_ trust you, but why should I now?" Harry continued. "Give me one good reason, Malfoy, just one. Why the hell should I trust you?"

For the life of him, Draco couldn't find the words. "I--"

"What?!" Harry said, and if Draco didn't know better, he'd have thought Harry was begging. "Tell me! What, Draco?! What have you got to say?"

"This," Draco said suddenly, and even he didn't know what he meant, but he was stepping forward. And he was grabbing Harry and pressing him back into a wall again because if he couldn't tell him, he could show him. And even if Harry pushed him away and beat the living shit out of him, at least... at least he might know that Draco would _never_... could never...

He kissed him, pressing his lips firm against Harry's, and nothing more. He didn't dare go farther. 

It only lasted a few seconds. Harry let out an angry sort of growl and ripped his lips away. Draco closed his eyes and waited for Potter to hit him. To hex him. It never came.

"I hate you," Harry said, his voice ragged and uneven. "I fucking _hate_ you." 

And he slammed his lips back against Draco's. His tongue slid hot against Draco's lips, and it was only a moment before Draco got over the shock and responded, opening to Harry, allowing him entrance. He pressed Harry harder against the wall, reveling in the way Harry's tongue felt in his mouth, sliding against his own. The way it tasted. The way it moved. He did his best to memorize all of it; sure he'd never get a chance to do this again.

He nipped at Harry's lips, tongue sliding sloppily into his mouth. He traced every ridge on the roof Harry's mouth, and Harry groaned when he ran it over the edge of his teeth, tongue grazing the inside of his lips, and he nearly fell apart when Harry _sucked_ on his tongue and dear God, he should have done this so much sooner.

Something was fluttering in Draco's chest, making it difficult to breathe. To think. He was... He needed more. To feel more of Harry. All of Harry. 

He ran his hands through Harry's hair. Over his shoulders. Down his back. Grasping Harry's hips and pulling him closer still. He kissed his way down Harry's jaw and nipped and licked and _sucked_ the skin at his neck. He felt rather than heard Harry's responding moan vibrating through his throat against Draco's lips. He felt Harry's hands in his hair, pulling him back up to his lips, and it should have hurt. 

But it didn't. 

Harry's body was pure heat against his own, writhing against him. Draco was falling into him, losing himself in the kiss and the heat and, _God_ , Harry was _hard_ against him, and if there was anything he could do to prevent himself from thrusting, he had no clue what it was. He didn't really care.

Harry gasped, lips leaving Draco's, his breath ghosting hot and damp across Draco's cheek, and Draco slid a leg between Harry's thighs, thrusting again. 

"Shit," Harry said, and sweet Merlin, he was grinding against Draco's thigh and it was too much and not enough. Never enough. Everything was moving much too fast… or too slow. Draco hardly knew what time was anymore.

He felt Harry’s lips at his neck, kissing, licking and nipping that sensitive spot behind his ear, and he shivered as it sent shocks down his spine. His hands groped at Harry, fisting in his clothes and he wanted nothing more than to tear them off. Useless things, clothes. They only got in the way and he needed more of Harry. To feel that heated skin against his own. To see if it would burn. 

He could only hope.

He reluctantly pulled his body away from Harry’s, mourning the loss of heat, and slipped one of his hands between their bodies to rest on Harry’s chest. He felt Harry’s muscles flex beneath his fingertips. His slid one hand down over Harry’s quivering stomach and the other up the back of his shirt. 

His fingers fumbled at Harry’s belt for what felt like hours. He hadn’t remembered the bleeding things being so complicated. And Harry’s mouth on his neck really wasn’t helping the situation any, but he did get the belt open eventually. Button. Zipper. And…

_Yes…_

“No… stop… I—I don’t think…”

_Well, fuck._

“What?” Draco said, trying to mask the irritation he felt. “What is it?” He slid his hand deep into Harry’s trousers, cupping the other man’s arousal.

“I can’t,” said Harry. “You… Nott…”

“Fuck, off, Potter,” Draco said, squeezing. Caressing. Harry moaned. “You know I didn’t… You know me…. You know…” He loved the weight of it in his hand. Scalding hot and hard and smooth. 

“Please,” Harry said. 

Really, ‘please’ could mean anything, anyway. Didn’t necessarily mean ‘stop’. 

Draco slid to his knees, vaguely wondering whether or not Harry had his wand. Didn’t matter. Harry would have to hex him. Draco couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. Draco slid his hands up the sides of Harry’s legs. Up his thighs. He hooked them into the side of Potter’s jeans and yanked them down, pulling the boxers Harry wore with them.

His mouth near watered at the sight of it. Hard, jutting up towards Harry’s stomach and Draco mentally cursed himself for not bothering to take off Harry’s shirt first. He reached up, wrapping his hand around Harry’s length, pulling it down toward his mouth. The scent was intoxicating and if Draco’s brain was working, he might have been a little worried at how much he wanted it. Needed it.

He ran the tip of his tongue along the underside of Harry’s cock and was vaguely aware of Harry’s head falling back, hitting the wall behind him, hard. He tongued the slit, pulling the drop of precome that had formed there into his mouth and it was bitter and salty and good. Harry’s hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his hair, pulling. Painful.

“Do you want me to stop?” he heard, and it was a minute before he realized the words were his own. He frowned. He hadn’t wanted to ask. Didn’t want to know the answer. Didn’t want to give Harry the chance to ask him to stop. 

He would, though. If Harry asked, he would.

“I—I…” Harry said, hips jerking forward as Draco’s hand tightened on his cock. He swallowed, groaning softly. “You—you…”

“I didn’t, Harry,” Draco said, fingers thrumming against the length in his hands. “You know I didn’t,” He was leaning forward again, desperate. His hands moved to Harry’s hips. “I couldn’t.”

He wrapped his mouth around the head of Harry’s cock and sucked. 

Harry’s moan echoed throughout the room and Draco’s eyes fell shut with a groan. “Fuck,” Harry said, hips bucking, shoving his cock deeper into Draco’s mouth. The head hit the back of his throat almost painfully and Draco couldn’t have cared less.

He was dizzy, though, and he was quite ready to pass out. He needed to breathe. He pulled back, moving a hand back to Harry’s cock, wrapping it around the base, keeping one hand on Harry’s hip, holding him in place. It helped. Not much, but it helped. 

He inhaled deeply and slowly descended on Harry’s cock again, tonguing the underside, sucking his way back up. He twirled his tongue around the head, tracing the ridge, and Harry was moving and groaning and choking on nonsensical words, which was ridiculous considering _he_ wasn’t the one with a… decent size cock in his mouth constantly grazing the back of his throat.

“God,” Harry said, and his hands were in Draco’s hair again. Draco’s cock strained against his trousers, painfully hard. And he needed to touch it and really, there were worse ways to die if Harry _did_ end up suffocating him. He pressed the heel of his palm against his own cock and groaned around Harry’s. “Don’t stop,” Harry cried above him. “Please…don’t…don’t stop.” Draco hadn’t intended to, but…

He pulled off. He wanted more than this. He wanted… to feel Harry inside and out and make it memorable, because he was sure Harry would never give it to him again. He wanted to fuck him, to own him, to possess.

“Potter,” he said urgently, trying and failing to get to his feet. He’d be appalled with himself later. He tried again, this time successfully. “I need… Can I…” He pulled his shirt over his head, stepping into Harry’s personal space once more. His hand immediately found Harry’s cock. His lips found Harry’s neck. “Can I…” He carried on as he kissed. Licked. Stroked. ”I want…”

“Fuck.” Harry’s voice was low and hoarse. It sent shivers down Draco’s spine.

“Yeah,” Draco murmured, reaching for Harry’s shirt with the hand that wasn’t currently busy stroking Harry’s cock, working on the buttons. “Yeah, that.” Buttons were cruel torture devices. Obviously. “I need… just… I need.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Harry hissed, and shocked the hell out of Draco when he reached for his trousers. Other than the initial kiss, Harry hadn’t really done much other than react. He hadn’t initiated much of anything.

“Please—“ And the begging was coming from Draco. 

“Yes,” Harry said again, and it was all Draco needed to hear. They stumbled down the hall towards Harry’s bedroom, tripping over their pants as they tried to kick them and their shoes off as they walked.

It took much longer than was bearable, and when they did finally make it to the room, Draco all but threw Harry onto the bed, collapsing on top of him.

He’d been right. Harry’s skin did burn. Nearly. 

He loved it.

His lips met Harry’s again, fiercely, and his hands roamed every inch of skin he could reach. He could feel Harry’s erection against his own and ground into him. His body slid against Harry’s sticky and sweaty one, and he could feel Harry everywhere. Every inch of his skin was on fire and it stung. And it was good.

He kissed his way down Harry’s chest, pausing at each nipple, licking, sucking and nipping. He loved the way Harry moved beneath him, writhing, rutting, and grinding. He loved the way he smelled… the way he tasted. Salty sweat and bitter cologne.

He kissed lower still, kissing Harry’s hips, unable to hold back a grin when Harry’s body jerked.

“Please,” Harry gasped. He reached down, grabbing Draco’s head, pulling it towards his groin.

Draco backed off. “Uh, uh,” he muttered, and reached for his wand, thankful that he’d had the sense to bring it with him. He whispered the lubrication spell and Harry actually squeaked.

“’S cold,” he said, drawing his knees up, and Draco groaned as he leaned forward, laying on his stomach between Harry’s legs.

He buried his face between Harry’s legs, nuzzling his balls, snaking his tongue out to lick just behind them. Harry’s leg twitched in response and Draco ran his hands up and down them, but Harry only twitched more.

He stopped, moving back up to Harry’s cock, teasing licks around the head, and he moved his hands to spread Harry’s legs apart further. He traced Harry’s slick entrance with just the tip of his finger, and Harry’s entire body nearly came off the bed.

Draco had the slightest suspicion that this wouldn’t last long. For either of them.

But Harry’s body went rigid when his slid his finger inside, and it occurred to him that Harry may not have ever done this before. “Shh,” he said, using his free hand to massage the back of Harry’s thigh. “It’s all right, relax.”

He went slow, pressing in deeper, twisting gently. It wasn’t long before Harry was doing the writhing thing again, and Draco swore he wasn’t going to live through the night. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Harry was so responsive. He always was. Draco had always been able to unnerve him with no more than a look.

“More,” Harry whispered, sounding strained, and Draco was only too happy to comply. He slid another finger in alongside the first and it was impossibly _tight_. Harry was bearing down on his fingers and his hands were clenched in the bed clothes. He alternated between panting and moaning and _whimpering_. 

Draco shut his eyes, trying to compose himself. It wasn’t working. 

He was close. Unbearably so, and it was ridiculous really, because no one was touching him, but touching Harry… it was almost better than when Harry _was_ touching him. Every time Harry groaned, it sent jolts of pleasure straight to his cock. Sent shivers down his spine, and the warmth in his stomach and the tightening in his groin grew more intense. Draco never thought he could come this way—finger fucking someone—but he was thinking it now.

He pulled his fingers out slowly as he could manage, moving back up Harry’s body, pulling Harry’s knees up as he went.

“Okay?”

Harry nodded frantically, eyes dilated, face flushed. His lips were slightly parted and Draco leaned in to kiss him just once more, nearly bending Harry’s body in half. Harry didn’t seem to mind and kissed back, and there was a level of passion in it that Draco had never felt before.

He broke the kiss, reaching down to grasp his own cock, guiding it towards Harry’s entrance. He couldn’t concentrate and would probably be embarrassed later by the fact that it took him a couple of times to get in position, but he couldn’t bring himself to care just now.

He pressed in slowly and Harry choked out a whimper as Draco’s head popped in. “God,” Draco moaned and bit his lip until he tasted blood in his mouth. It was all he could do to stay still. Harry’s nails dug into his forearms painfully and Draco _wanted_ him to break the skin. Wanted him to leave a mark. Wanted the reminder.

He felt Harry shift his hips, almost experimentally, and slid in a bit deeper. Harry was tight… _hot_ around Draco’s cock, almost _sucking_ Draco deeper. 

“Shit,” Harry said and his voice was high pitched. Desperate. It was all the permission Draco needed.

He thrust. Deep and angling his hips just so and Harry gasped, but it wasn’t quite the reaction Draco was hoping for, and he need to find it: that spot that would make Harry go crazy, because he wasn’t going to last long at all. He shifted, changing the angle slightly… and…

Harry nearly screamed and his thighs snapped up, smacking Draco’s hips and squeezing and… _there_. He began to thrust, finding a decent rhythm, one that wouldn’t end this before it was properly started, and reached for Harry’s cock. 

“God, Harry,” he whined. His throat was tight. His heart pounded beneath his chest. He kept his eyes shut tight, positive that the sight of Harry alone would send him hurling over the edge.

Harry was moaning regularly, moaning and whimpering and he cried out loudly each time Draco hit bottom. Harry’s hands moved to Draco’s hips, pulling Draco deeper, or lifting himself higher, Draco couldn’t be sure. So tight. So hot. Then Harry spoke again and Draco forgot how that breathing thing worked again. “Harder, Draco… Please… I—Merlin—harder…”

Oh fucking hell. “Yes, I—God, Harry. Yes…”

His picked up his pace frantically, loving the way his hips slapped Harry’s arse each time he thrust. Loving the sound. The feel. “’S good. God, it’s good. I… I can’t.” Draco groaned and sped the pace of the hand stroking Harry’s cock. 

Harry’s hand left his hip and Draco felt it on his face, knuckles sliding along his cheek, his jaw. 

Draco opened his eyes.

And broke.

He thrust wildly as he came, the look in Harry’s eyes burned into his mind. He was sure he screamed. His hand pumped Harry’s cock furiously and he thrust and thrust and willed himself to stay hard long enough for Harry.

Harry screamed and gurgled something that sound vaguely like ‘Holy mother of—‘ and he tightened around Draco painfully on his sensitive cock. He watched, mesmerized as Harry came, eyes shut tight, thighs griping Draco. His entire body went rigid, and unlike Draco, he didn’t make a sound as he came, spilling over Draco’s fingers.

Draco collapsed atop him, panting heavily. The sounds of his breathing along with Harry’s suddenly seemed extremely loud in the otherwise silent room.

“If,” Harry spoke and his voice vibrated through his chest, tickling Draco’s ear just a bit. “If… if it was just an act… why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco sighed, rolling off Harry, but staying close, draping an arm across Harry’s midsection. He’d hoped that this particular conversation could have waited until morning. Or not be had at all.

“You would have followed me,” he replied, fingers tracing nondescript patterns over Harry’s stomach. “You’re crazy like that, Potter,” he added. “I couldn’t have risked it.” Harry didn’t respond, and something in Draco chest twisted. He stomach churned. “I fucking _swear_ , Harry,” he said, desperate and not caring. “I’ll swear it under Veritaserum. You can hire a Legilimens. I swear…”

“I believe you,” Harry interrupted. “I… I’m sorry.”

Draco grinned moving closer to Harry, burying his face in Harry’s neck. “It’s alright, Potter,” he said, grinning sleepily. “You annoy the shit out of me. I’ll not put up with it. You’ve got to work on stopping that. That is… if you expect me to keep hanging around here.” It was a question he couldn’t ask. No matter how much he wanted the answer. Harry… he couldn’t want him to leave. He couldn’t…

“I’ll work on it,” Harry said. Draco could hear that smile again and he looked up to see it, smiling in return. He leaned in and kissed it away this time, wondering at the fact that he could.

It was awhile before they got any sleep.

Theodore Nott was captured the next day, thanks to Weasley and company. Apparently, Weasley didn’t even have to feed him Veritaserum. He gave the name of the man who hired him without a second’s hesitation. Idiot. It was the only leverage he had. Not that Draco cared. Dear Theo could rot for all he gave a damn.

He smiled when he gave Harry the news, looking forward to being able to leave the flat without having to keep on his toes, and he expected Harry to be thrilled. But as it turned out, Harry was all too happy to lay around the flat with Draco as long as there was sex involved. Draco only wished he found that bit of information out sooner. It would have spared him quite a few injuries.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three months later…

 

Harry never stopped annoying the shit out of Draco. They fought all the time, and nine times out of… nine times, it was all Harry’s fault. Draco thought he did it on purpose. In the absence of Dark Lords and death threats, Harry needed someone to fight, and somehow, the fact that he had sex with the prat on a daily basis didn’t mean Draco was off the hook.

However, as much as Harry had gotten his way in the beginning, Draco got his way just as often, if not more now. All he needed to do was kiss the prat right in the middle of a heated sentence and Harry would forget he wanted anything except Draco. It was a nice trick and Draco used it often.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before Harry picked up on it.

“It’s not going to work this time, Draco,” Harry said after he’d tried it. They were in the living room of the flat and Weasley had just shown up. Harry had just won some sort of an award and they were _supposed_ to be celebrating—alone—but apparently not. Harry could be such a conniving, manipulative liar. “I want Ron there. He’s my best mate, my—”

“Must you be so fucking sentimental?” Draco snapped. “Selfish, too. We never invite my friends anywhere.”

“Your friends don’t care that I’ve won some silly award, but if you want…” Harry said.

“Ha!” Draco shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Can’t handle not being the center of attention?”

“What are they on about now?” Granger asked somewhere in the background. Draco hadn’t even seen her walk in.

“Granger, too?!” He fumed. 

“Well, obviously…”

“No,” Draco said. “You said we’d be alone… and it’s been _ages_ … and you know I hate your friends.”

“Oi! Feeling’s entirely mutual.”

“Shut up, Weasley,” Draco said before stepping closer to Harry. 

“At least my friends don’t try to kill you,” Harry said and froze immediately after, glancing at Draco, his expression worried. “Draco… I… I didn’t mean…”

“Yes, you did,” Draco said flatly. “Have fun tonight…” he paused, glancing at Weasley and Granger. “…with your friends.”

He stormed out of the living room, down the hall into his— _Harry’s_ —room and slammed the door behind him. It wasn’t long before Harry joined him. Draco knew it wouldn’t be long before Harry followed. He was utterly predictable like that.

“Sorry,” Harry said softly as he entered. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “You know I didn’t mean—,”

Draco waved him off. 

“And,” Harry went on, “you can invite your friends if you want. I never said they couldn’t come.”

“That’s not the point,” Draco sighed. “You lied. You said you said it was going to be just us, alone. I’ve barely seen you at all this past week.”

“I know,” Harry said, pushing off the door and walking over to Draco. “And I wanted to. Ron kind of… It was his idea. And Hermione can be a bit forceful when she wants to be…”

Draco nearly laughed, but caught himself just in time. “I don’t like them. I don’t...” He paused, grinning. “We don’t have to go, you know. We can stay here, or go somewhere else and celebrate together. Then we can come back here and fuck. Actually, we can fuck anywhere, I don’t mind an audience, but—“

Harry cut him off with a kiss and it wasn’t long before Draco lost his train of thought. He wrapped his arms around Harry, trying to pull him in closer, but Harry back away.

“Draco?” Harry said.

“Hmm?” Draco moved to kiss his neck.

“We’re still going.”

Draco groaned, pulling away. He shoved Harry back and crossed his arms across his chest. “I hate you, Harry. I always have, and I still do. I really, really do.”

Harry laughed, kissing him again. “Me, too, Draco. Me, too.”

They were considerably late to Harry’s little celebration. 

FIN


End file.
